Matters of the State
by Sunruner
Summary: Labrynna's new Prince is trying to do what's right for his country while staying in another: Hyrule. But when the world is shadows, wrought with lies and chiming bells, how honourable can some intentions really be? Last edit: 8-28-09
1. Chapter 1

**Bonjour, mon amies! Not quiet sure how far this story'll actually get, but I thought I'd try my hand at a full Legend of Zelda story. I'm also aiming for a much more serious method of writing and speech patterns for characters, but I hope you're able to enjoy it just the same.**

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 1

Within these stone walls, the world in its entirety seemed to hold its breath. Outside tree branches are still, splashing fountains quieting for the moment. Sunlight continues to stream through vibrant panes of stained glass however, altered ray's landing upon white marble floors and deep red carpet spreading down the center of the massive chapel.

I'm almost afraid to enter the hall so filled with light whilst seeking to carry out my task, pausing outside the massive wooden doors emblazoned with the kingdom's mark and peeking around the corner of where one sits ajar on its hinges.

I find my guess to have proven on the mark, some had guessed My Liege to have been somewhere in the gardens, stables, or elsewhere around the castle, but I've found him here instead within the mighty Temple of Time itself. I don't quiet know why he's here, or what it was that bid me check the Temple first, but regardless, I was correct.

He stands there with his back to me, facing the alter which holds three relics some say he himself collected within the Temple some years ago; around the time Ganondorf attempted to encompass all of our Golden Land in darkness. A cape so deep a green it is nearly black hangs around his shoulders, light despite it's colour as it's nearly summer soon. I know it's green for a fact; I've washed it enough times and even helped him fasten it to his shoulder-guards this morning when he donned what little armor My Lord allows himself to wear.

Of said silver-edged armor over his shoulders I can see nothing, should he face me, the well cut measure of his tunic a shade of green hardly lighter than the cloak itself would hide nearly all of the finely linked chain mail he wears each day when he expects word from the King. Under the mail he also wears a white shirt with sleeves longer than those of the tunic. The shirt he wears is similar to the loose white pants he has, the sort which tuck into the black boots I myself polished a few nights past. Those boots are a pair which come up nearly to the knees but lack the sleek line befitting a Knight of his stature. It isn't as if they aren't well made in themselves, turning down at the tops and such, but they don't exactly keep with the new trend of the courtiers.

For now though, the cap of green the same colour as the tunic, yet with a band a bit brighter around the hem is visible to me as it rests upon his head and the long end trails down his back slightly. And that is about all I can see of him at the moment.

I'm about to step forwards and call out to him when My Lord is suddenly down on one knee in a bow towards the alter. I hurriedly jump back behind the door from where I had moved ahead minorly when I sought to speak. I'm not going to disturb him while he prays, my message is not as important as that.

It takes a few moments, and the silence stretches on as My Lord keeps his head bowed down, removing the cap swiftly and silently to place on the ground next to him as I can assume his eyes are closed in concentration. Once or twice before in the past year or so I've spied him in this manner, and I am soon greeted with the not-so-familiar, but strangely captivating sight which I can only put down to my Lord's deep ties with the Golden Power, and the Wind Goddess Farore in particular.

At first it's dull, and hard to see amidst the bright light streaming into the Temple on all sides. But then it grows; an aura of green which reminds one of the gentle sheen of colour the world seems to take when filled with spring's new growth. That aura curls around my Lord's bowed form, like sweet fingers of incense smoke wafting from the ground around him, and tinted again with that gentle green glow.

The churning fingers of smoke eventually fade back into the general light around him before finally becoming merely a glow, and at last little more than my Lord kneeling in prayer before his blonde head begins to rise and he himself makes to stand. His hands come together in front of him and I step out from behind the door as he gives a straight backed bow towards the alter, a sign that he is finished.

Hurriedly, I clasp my hands in a similar manner as I'm now for the most part properly within the Temple of Time. My hard-soled boots clack once against the marble floors before my hands are up, elbows out and parallel to the floor, my right hand- my dominant- fisted and covered with the fingers of my left as I bow to mimic my Lord, and I rise to find his blue gaze upon me.

He seems almost dazed for a moment as he's half-turned towards me, having taken a pause before finishing the motion. His blonde hair is tousled slightly, but I believe that's how he always looked, his pale blue eyes seem somewhat glazed though, but I can simply account that for his connection with the Gods being felt only so long ago. He seems to give himself a slight shake though, causing the one ring he wears in his right ear to swing slightly; the thick loop of silver catching the light as a few rays reflect off of the glossy surface of the green stone mounted within it.

Many have called my Lord a paladin before, a holy knight fighting in Farore's name, and yet also sworn to the throne of Hyrule. Even without a sword on- he of course has one belt-knife held clearly at his hip, and perhaps one or two smaller blades in his boots- garbed in the goddess's colour, it is difficult to deny what so many whisper about.

"Ah, did the Captain let you boys off a bit earlier today, Timothy?" I blink slightly before my Lord's words connect with my mind. I quickly bring my gloved hands to my sides, nearly slapping my palms against the rough brown of my pants, my green tunic of a similar shade as that which my Liege wears, save with a copy of the Golden Triforce embroidered onto my left shoulder- left because that is the hand my liege favors. Other Squires don't have theirs dependant on their Lord's orientation, but my Lord is a level above most. The square leather bag I wear across my chest makes the stance a bit awkward as I try to attain a proper look of attention whilst being addressed. My Lord's lips are quirked in a slight smile as he walks confidently across the wine red carpeting.

"No, my Lord," I answer promptly, except, that doesn't quite sound proper, so I try again, "I mean, we were not released, my Lord, but I was sent specifically to find you. The King has given me a message to deliver." I think I stumbled once or twice, but am past the point where my ears burn from slips such as that. I reprimand myself silently, but it's unlikely that he'll do so as well.

"Alright, at ease, Squire." Sir Link replies, as at ease with the formality I'm familiar with as he has been since I was first assigned to be his squire the summer before this one. "May I see his Majesty's letter? Or did he want me to come and see him personally?" At this point, my Lord is nearly before me, motioning with his black-gloved hands for us to leave the Temple for the moment, or at least this chamber. I nod my head properly to him before waiting for him to move past the mighty doors and tail him by one or two paces.

"A letter, my Lord." I answer, quickly going towards the pouch at my side; I have a few odds and ends within it; a spool of thread and five needles for wounds, clothing, and minor repairs for gear and such. There are also a flint stone along with a whet one for sharpening blades, as well as a roll of gauze, and a tightly bound pouch of herbs. A small bundle of parchment slips, a tightly capped bottle of ink, a quill with nearly all of its feathery-bits long since tugged off, a second small pouch which contains a few rupees of minour value and finally a thick envelope of creamy paper, stamped with a seal of the Kingdom and handed to me by one of the King's various attendants. It is indeed quiet thick, boasting both various papers being held inside, and the general wealth of the writer.

I grasp this letter posthaste, handing it to my Lord and bowing my head slightly as he takes it. He flips it back and forth for a moment; as if checking for a name or any outward markings aside from the yellow wax seal. Clearly finding none, I watch with as much patience as I can muster as he pushes his thumb under the wax to break it. My Lord receives nearly all of his assignments directly from the king, serving him in a petty light has earned me bragging rights to trump all others.

His blue eyes scan the first of the papers which is held out before him as we stand in the sunlight, still on the white-marble steps leading directly into the Temple. Slowly though, as if moving by memory, he begins to walk again, not missing a single step as I follow with that pace or two of space again. I can count at least two creamy sheets in his hands as he reads, not speaking as even though my Lord is not nearly as formal as most other Knights of Hyrule, he seems to have grown used to my shadowing him. I needn't ask any questions either. Even when his assignments do not involve me or he won't allow me to follow him- and I'm ashamed to say he's outwitted me at least once trying to do something chivalrous. I hadn't thought he'd actually string me up a tree that one time he caught me following him!- My Lord will almost always tell me every detail I ask for both before he leaves and once he returns.

His steps take us past the glittering fountains and ponds of the Temple's grounds, and I can hear the din of the town bazaar begin to pick up, becoming slowly clearer as he continues to read in silence. We navigate the soon bustling crowds of Castle Town square; sunlight shinning off of orange-shingle roofs as the glare of the growing sun nearly gives the white buildings a purple tint. Although one perhaps wouldn't really call it navigating; as it's more simply walking towards his destination without needing watch out for obstacles.

He is recognized quiet easily by his attire, folding the sheets away and back into their envelope with its broken seal and handing it back to me. It's a signal that I may read the words originally meant for his eyes alone, but as I already stated, he doesn't do well to keep secrets like most Knights, nor does my Lord feel the need to shoulder his way through crowds which willingly part for him. It is nothing dramatic such as what were to happens should His Majesty the King appear in the square, nor a more vocal courtier, merely a small bubble which seems to form around my Lord as he moves.

People merely seem inclined to move out of the way by half a step when the green of his outfit appears. I can look towards the faces of the people we pass- not reading the letter yet as I'd likely trip over an uneven cobble or ram into a plant-box by accident-, those faces are as they were a year ago, and as I can assume they were every year before that. People smile when they see my Lord, he offering a nod in return and perhaps a slight wave. My Lord seems almost uncomfortable by the attention though, I've come to notice that quiet easily over past seasons. I don't know if it's so much that he simply wants to disappear, but it's something he just isn't in his element with.

At long last, we begin to leave the noise of the square behind. Moving down road after road and passing by fewer people now. The smiles are lessened at this point as well, only two or three people seen going about their business at any one time, perhaps offering a nod no different than what they would give a passing guard or any other Knight.

I still have yet to open the papers in my hands, in the act of slipping them back into my bag but hesitant at the same time. My Lord has yet to say a word, which is almost un-usual now that we've passed from the crowd. I feel as though it can't mean any good, and chose to speak without being spoken too.

"Is it bad news, M'lord?" I question from behind him, the two of us rounding a slight bend as the ground remains cobbled with blue stones and white mortar, hills however growing around us as the road takes a definite upwards slant.

"Hmm? Bad? Why, it's not bad at all. In fact, you could say that this is the exact opposite of bad." I blink at my Lord's tone of voice, a definite smile in his words as he turns his face to look at me over his shoulder, a grin literally spreading from ear to ear across his face. It's possibly one of the goofiest expressions I've ever seen him wear; if he's going to look so elated when we arrive in the castle, it'll make at least one Pompous Pig curl his tail in disgust.

I'd scrub pots and weed gardens from now until I was a man in my forties if any captain or guardsman, or perhaps even my Lord himself were to hear me repeat the name I've personally given a few less pleasant members of the Royal Court. By their accounts, my Lord and I should switch places, his lack of noble blood where as my father can in fact claim distant relation to the Royal family puts me as my Lord's better.

They don't go so far as to slander him outright, but I've heard attendants of theirs in the kitchens and corridors. The man who saved Hyrule and has done good for other lands as well deserves a few sacks of gold and maybe a plot of land somewhere, his name in a book and a celebration for a few days, and then life should be as it was.

"…we're to be there and greet the caravan at the edge of Zora Territory where they are now, and then escort them to the palace." My Lord's words catch me off by surprise. Oh no, he's been speaking all the while my thoughts have been going off in circles! Now my ears do indeed go red, and I clutch the letter as stiffly as I can without crumpling it, following almost sheepishly now and remaining carefully attuned to my Lord's words.

I don't think he's noticed my lapse however, not having turned around to check, and allowing himself to quiet as we make our way up to the iron gates; the first line of defense on route to the castle. The blue-grey stones are erected in a block manner over and flanking the gates, two guards standing garbed in brown leather, and red tunics- the symbol of the Kingdom and the Golden Power embroidered onto their shoulders in gold thread and stamped into the shields worn on their left arms; short swords hanging from their belt as they salute and allow my Lord and I to enter Castle grounds.

"I'll let you attend to Epona and your own horse, alright, Timothy? Make sure they're well fed tonight and made comfortable, gear in order and such. Oh, and if you get to my bag before I can then remember only to take what we'll need. I have something to attend to first; we're to set out first thing tomorrow morning."

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"My Lady?" I call, entering the shaded garden as the day's heat grows a bit stronger. 'Tis only spring, but summer is closing in and already making itself felt. The wisteria vines draped across and twining into the large trellis above my head provide a fair amount of shade in the walled garden here within the confines of the palace. The large water-feature built into the wall of the garden spills from a gargoyle's mouth and into the small brook which leads into a small pond; that then drains into the waterways which connect to the mote and river.

"Oh, where is that girl?" I grumble slightly, having already trekked throughout the castle from her chambers to the library, to the dinning hall, down through her and her father's studies. I've even gone through the growing racket being brought up by everyone working away in the great hall, the massive chamber which leads directly into the castle from the front doors already being strung up with banners and celebratory wreaths. Every inch of the hall from top to bottom is being given a harsh scrub and a good polish, even the massive windows mirroring those in the Temple of Time are being washed down out of season. You'd think this were the first time the castle has seen any sort of welcoming celebration!

"Zelda!" I say with more force this time, allowing my tongue to click against my teeth slightly in impatience as I again hear no answer. She can't honestly be hiding from me, can she? Honestly, at twenty and one years of age that girl shouldn't be playing games! I'm nearly ready to give a good holler this time to be heard before I hear the slight rattle and creek of the wooden door I exited from behind me. I give an about face, curling my hands on my hips and readying a few words of lecture for the Princess, only to have the words fall and my hands drop. This certainly isn't Zelda…

"Good morning to you as well, Impa." Link greets giving an almost sheepish smile at the expression I wore when he turned around. As I relax though and allow my features to calm again he is able to realize it's not him whom I am upset with. Garbed in a deep green cape and his tunic of a similar color although a lighter shade, loose white pants tucking into his black boots. His attire has changed over the years, but at the same time it hasn't at all; regardless, _Sir_ Link certainly cleans up well.

"It's late to be calling it morning, nearly an hour past noon when I last checked." I reply a bit bluntly. My tone isn't to say that I dislike Link; it's quite on the contrary really, I simply now wish that her ladyship had come in with him. "I take it you saw the great hall when you entered, a messenger arrived an hour or so ago. Where have you been all day?"

"Yes, I saw. I was in the Temple early this morning, it seems I lost track of time again. My Squire came in and brought me news though." Lost track again? I swear it is as if both himself and Zelda could lose themselves within that place for the next month and never know more than an hour had passed. Link seems abashed as I needn't point this out to him as he reaches up with one black-gloved hand to rub the base of his neck slightly before speaking again. It's good to hear his Squire is able to tail him though, the Hero of Time was quiet awkward with the idea at first, but seems to be adapting well. "Do you know where Zelda is? His Majesty's sending my Squire and I to escort the caravan to the city, but we'll only be leaving tomorrow morning."

I feel my eyes narrow and my mouth twist slightly with his question, bringing my arms up and folding them as Link's eyes seem to widen slightly in awareness and he takes half a step away, his hands up slightly in front of him as if he thinks I'd attack him. A small boy is able to keep tabs on the man who moves like the wind, but I can't even find the girl I've raised from infancy? Pah!

"Well, please don't let me take up anymore of your time, although if there's still time before I leave then I wouldn't mind speaking with her." Link's voice is light and breezy as he speaks now, his hands falling to his sides easily as he gives me a gentle smile to accompany his words. I nod in response even though I have my own messages to deliver already, one more cannot hurt.

"Leave for where?" I give a slight start despite myself and swiftly turn on my heel towards the voice. And my own words are in the air before I even notice myself preparing for them

"Zelda! Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you!" Zelda's sapphire eyes seem nearly unresponsive as she stands a bit farther inside the garden, almost as if touched with the haze of sleep. I can see nothing of the silver hoop placed across her brow this morning as the Princess' slim pale blue gown seems a tad wrinkled as it falls down to her ankles. Is that a bit of dirt along the backside?

"Goodness, child, what have you been doing all morning?" I leave my first question for this second one as my ladyship brings one gloveless hand up slightly to finger-comb a few strands of her blonde hair. It isn't tangled or messy per-say, just how the creases in her dress are few, but that regal air both her and her father normally carry is somewhat diminished at the moment. Clasped in her left hand I can see the silver hoop I'd thought was missing, along with a small book with a thick purple ribbon tucked between its pages, her long white gloves also held alongside the book and tiara. Pressed into the back of her left hand at her side holding these trinkets is a triangular marking, one which normally looks like a strangely darker patch across her skin, but which seems to sparkle slightly when hit with the correct light.

"I'm sorry, Impa." She replies; her other hand at last falling from her hair as I finish my second question. Stepping away from Link I make my towards her, taking the items she's holding so that she doesn't need to burden herself with them. Zelda shakes her head slightly even as she relinquishes them, retaining her gloves however and beginning to tug them on almost moodily. She motions for me to give her the tiara after she's finished with the gloves, and I snort slightly before complying, allowing her to set the hoop gently across her brow to crown her golden tresses. At last though, her ladyship seems ready to speak.

"I meant to come out to read," She explains, although it could also be taken as her merely coming up with excuses for vanishing, "But in the heat and listening to the water, I only woke up when I heard the both of you speaking. Now." Looking away from me as she seems finished speaking to me at least, I allow my eye brows both to climb steadily up my head in surprise. She seems to have her attention solely on Link now; did she just brush me off?

"What were you saying about leaving?" She questions, taking a few steps past me and towards the green-clad hero as he folds one arm under his chest and makes a noticeable bow. "It's for nothing dangerous I would hope." Oho, a dangerous game to play, Link knows full well I have business with Zelda, but doesn't so much as spare me a glance as she speaks to him! Thin ice, boy!

"I should hope it isn't dangerous either, nor should I be gone very long, perhaps only a day or two, three at the most." They _**are**_ ignoring me! I don't know whether to laugh or shout at the pair, the Hero's arm coming out slightly for the Princess to take and rest her hand on as they start to move back towards the door leading inside. Zelda turns her head back over her shoulder and smiles slightly with a nod as well, whereas I give them both a level look as I cross my arms beneath my bosom.

"Hold a moment, Sir Link!" I quickly call as they both look away again as if to continue on still, adding a bit of emphasis to his title to bring them to a slight pause again. "Before whisking a young woman off like that, you allow her nurse to speak!" Their arms drop as they both grow a slightly abashed look; I would laugh at them save that Link speaks before the moment is through. Shaking his head slightly of all things he then looks at me as if confused.

"Whisking? Why, Impa, I would have you know that I would never dream of such a thing! Nor would I be so affront with her Majesty." He calls, holding one gloved hand up as if to still any argument I might raise to him, and bowing exaggeratedly towards Zelda as he calls upon her title. I don't plan to interrupt however, wanting to hear what he has to say this time around, but growing more certain at his growing enthusiasm that he is beyond formalities at this point and is sinking into tomfoolery.

"Why, take a moment at least to gaze upon the Princess's features." He earns himself a raised brow from Zelda at this, but she merely folds her arms in a stance mimicking my own, one foot slipping out from under her skirts to tap slightly upon the ground as she listens closely before he takes her arm as if for inspection.

"So skinny she is!" He exclaims, holding her hand gently by the wrist as if holding it to the sun to inspect it. "Princess, you do eat your meals, correct? Why, should a man do as your nurse suggests, coming to you and seeking to sweep your off your feet, I fear that to rough a touch could snap your fair self in two!" He makes to grimace at her state, shaking his head as if disappointed or worried, and I bite my upper lip to keep a smile from growing at this point. Zelda merely pulls her wrist back and makes to brush it off, as though his touch had soiled the glove before looking to me with a sigh.

"Honestly, Impa, do I not deserve more credit than that though?" She questions, before it is her turn to berate the knight in much the same comedic manner as he was her a moment before. "A man more fit to be a clown than a knight? Look! His cap is more fitting for a witch if it were strung up with wire!" She shakes her head in a manner similar to what he was her as he brings one hand up and fists it as if holding a knife, plunging it into his breast as she speaks, although fighting weak laughter it seems.

"You give me cruel words to meet my own of concern, Princess!" He whines, pouting to her slightly as her arms are again folded and she looks him up and down once before looking to me again and walking my way with a tender sigh.

"Enough, you two, enough." I say, raising my hand not burdened with her book to pat the air slightly to keep the banter from continuing any farther. "Zelda," I then call, motioning for her to continue coming my way as Link swiftly seems to move away by a few paces, finding himself at the edge of the water with surprising speed, but still managing to keep his motions from being overly obvious.

"Zelda," I repeat, her face seeming alight as I can see the wheels in her head turning to come up with the words for the next round sure to come about after I am gone, but until they go off on their own I want her to hear my words first. She leans in closer to me slightly and I hold her hand with my free one before I speak.

"Princess, your father asks that you dine with him tonight," This was my second message really, but is the first of importance. Zelda's father is good to her, but his Majesty is a busy man. "We have guests arriving in a few days as well, Sir Link can tell you more about them of course. Be sure to wash up well for this evening though, I'll have something nice set out for you to wear. Do you understand?" Zelda seems to pause slightly at the mention of her dinner arrangements, but simply nods to me in understanding before smiling slightly.

"My thanks, Impa; I'll be there of course." As she speaks I bring her gloved hand up a bit more to place a kiss on the knuckles of her left hand, a simple sign of fealty and loyalty to her. We both smile and nod before I release her hand, and she moves quickly back towards where Link is still standing, trying his hardest it seems not to listen in whilst amusing himself with one of my lady's vines which climbs up the castle wall next to the gargoyles which spew the water to feed the garden itself.

"Guests?" I hear her ask, the two of them taking one another's arm and leaving the garden now with little more than a passing glance back at me before the door in the wall opens and closes once more with them gone. Looking up slightly along the castle's grey-blue walls, my eyes pause upon one of the few windows which stare down into the garden. There weren't always windows there actually, if memory serves they were added when the Queen stood at his Majesty's side so that her gardens could still be seen even when they could not be enjoyed. Regardless, I can almost see someone standing there, but whoever it is can see me looking at them…? The shadow vanishes abruptly, perhaps merely someone standing by the window. No matter.

My eyes instead find themselves wandering this small haven. The garden is once again as quite as when I entered it, and I feel almost nostalgic as a result. My hard-soled shoes tap against the stone pathway along the grass further into the garden as I move through it once. Coming back to the doorway, I pause in the same place Link stood, gently fingering one of the leaves of the bud-less rose vine.

Yes, even bud-less in the heat of spring and early summer. Most of the garden is already in bloom, some even finished for the season. The other roses are all alive with colour and fragrance, but not this one wall. The leaves are velvety and so green they're nearly blue, fitting, for something said to bloom blue roses. It is more carefully tended than most any other plant within this garden, but it has been many years since last I saw a blossom upon it. Zelda has never seen it flower.

Her mother did though; t'was the late Queen who in fact planted it, pruned and watered it with her own hands to not half the size it is now. It is a labour of love Zelda took on at an early age. But every year then it would bloom brilliant blue roses, sometimes as large as a head of cabbage in good years, others, small enough to be used in letters. But although Zelda's care for this vine rivals that of her mother's, although she loves it just as dearly, it has never once flowered for the princess.

"Oh, Majesty…" I breathe, my words faint as a gentle breeze rustles the garden softly. The Hylian sounds of my voice almost seem to echo on the wind as well, words more formal than what I spoke before.

"Tis as if thy roses still mourn as thy husband…"

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**To clarify, this story runs on a timeline saying that the events of OoT take place when Link is roughly 12, MM when he's 13, and the Oracle games occur when he's 15-ish. At 16 he moved into Hyrule Castle, and it's been 5 years since he did that. Both he and Zelda are now 21.**

**Input? I would prefer to use Impa from the Oracle games since Zelda needs more of a mother than a body-guard in this story, but I'd still like feed-back before making any final decisions.**

**Also note this: I have completed up to mid-way through chapter three already, however, they were written on another computer, and due to a certain virus, I am currently re-typing them all using printed versions. They're basically the same except for a few word changes etc, but this mainly means that they're delayed by quiet a bit right now. So it's not my fault if next chapter is slow! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Many thanks to many reviewers!**

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**Matters of the State  
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Chapter 2

"But, my Lord- No Honour Guard, no other Knights, no soldiers nor even a flag-bearer?"

"I believe flag-bearers are part of the Honour Guard." I reply, feeling about ready to whistle a little tune to myself as I gingerly tighten Epona's straps. The roan-coloured mare swings her large head around to look at me as I smooth any wrinkles out of the green and yellow saddle blanket I have over her back. She doesn't seem pleased with being woken up before the sun, but doesn't skitter too much as I tighten the saddle straps once more to make sure I won't go sliding off once we're out and away.

Instead of echoing my own mood though, Epona seems more inclined to mimic Timothy this morning. My squire is currently going through the same motions I am to prepare his own horse, a dun- and another mare- just a few stalls over from Epona's. It's a bit hard to see him in the dim light of the one lantern I brought out to the stables with us. Am I a bit too eager to be off? The sky's only just lightening now in the east.

"Doesn't it bother you though, Sir? His Majesty isn't sending anyone else with us at all to meet the Prince's caravan." I adjust Epona's reigns a final time before beginning to lead her from her stall, leaving the lantern to Timothy as I first pass it and then his stall. His grey eyes meet my gaze in the dim light as he seems rather put out by the assignment as a whole, his sour face framed by the hood of his cloak, green to mirror my own. Oh well, I've been all smiles since yesterday.

Exiting the stable's hay-coated floor of packed dirt, Epona's hooves strike the flagstone spread across the central courtyard rather loudly in the calm twilight. Pausing, the night is cloudless; promising good weather both for our ride and also for the townsfolk as they prepare for the welcoming celebration. My squire and his horse come up a few minutes later, his saddle bags in general seem to hold more than my own do, which is probably the case since he's the one carrying most of our gear for things like pitching camp; a few metal dishes, bedrolls, etc.

I still haven't replied to him yet, and simply begin to lead on towards the castle gates standing dark in the pre-dawn hour. There are two guards stationed there for the night-watch, difficult to see in the shadows and silver light, but I know they're there just the same. The castle walls are some twenty feet high and I would think at least a few thick, the gates are notably thinner, but reach up fifteen feet and if they aren't a solid oak, then they're bound together strongly enough to pass for it. Like the town wall, this set of gates also includes a spiked barrier made of sharpened logs and metal brackets, quick to release if, gods forbid, they were ever needed.

Well, for now they aren't needed, and I ignore the idea for the most part now as I lead Epona up towards the wooden building built up just off to the side of the massive doors. One of the guards merely nods to me as I come up, his partner vanishing inside the small room. A dim flash of light is visible through the small window on one wall, and a moment later the gates slowly begin to ease open.

It's my turn to nod now, looking first to the guard and then Timothy before I pat Epona's neck and place one booted foot in the stirrup; swinging my other leg up and landing myself in the saddle as she hardly shifts at all before my weight settles. I take up her reigns in one gloved and, using my left to feel up along my shoulder and adjusting to sword strapped across my back, my fingers coming up against the bow as well which is also stuffed into the straps under my cloak.

The sword I carry with me now isn't the Master Sword; that blade lies asleep within the Temple of Time as it has for nearly five years now. It came to me both in Labrynna and Holodrum six years ago when I needed it, but was returned each time.

Wearing my weapons like this makes it nearly impossible for me to try closing the green material around me completely, but later on this morning I probably won't need the cloak at all. A quiver of arrows is tied to Epona's saddle next to my right leg, and my squire has his own bow and arrow in front of him in his saddle; chances are good that all either of us will need them for will be to catch our dinner.

Once the gates are open far enough that I can look back and find my squire ready, I click my tongue once or twice; nodding once more to the guards as she starts to move forwards. I don't spur her on as she sets herself first at a gentle trot, it's a long ride. But, I might bring it up to a canter once we're properly on our way to town. As we start moving, that's when I swivel around again in my seat and give Timothy his reply;

"Should his Majesty the Prince have a problem with the lack of banner and trumpets for him when he enters Hyrule, I'm sure what our country-men are planning will make amends." I say, noting the thoughtful look on my Squire's face as I turn around again and settle down in Epona's saddle. "Remember; they still have all of today, tomorrow, and a nice chunk of the day past that to prepare. That would be plenty of time, wouldn't it?" I can tell from the silence which follows that he's taking a moment to mull over my words, spurring his own horse gently to come a bit closer to Epona before slowing again to keep pace. Looking to him again, I find my squire contemplative, before looking to me curiously.

"Do you know this Prince, my Lord?" He questions, and I can feel my lips pull up in that same wide grin I can't seem to drop. I almost can't speak to answer him, wanting to laugh. Slowly, I nudge at Epona, giving her the signal to move a bit faster. She picks up her pace accordingly, reaching a steady canter as the second pair of gates appears. Then we'll be properly on our way to Castle Town, their gate, and the Hylain planes.

"Aye, but I haven't seen him in years though." Looking to my squire as he comes up to keep pace again, having a bit less control with his own horse and more or less simply allowing her to follow Epona. "I'm curious as to how that old sour-puss is doing."

* * *

The day breaks slowly this morning it seems, I slept away most of yesterday morning in my garden after breakfast, and then frittered away the afternoon speaking with Link about both our coming guests and of nothing at all it seems. It's almost odd how we can take up one another's time like that without getting anything done at all. What I'm really left to think on though, is the evening I spent with my father last night.

We have a good relationship I think; my father and I. We know each other like acquaintances, friends who see each other every few days. When I was little we spent a bit more time together; hardly an evening went by that I didn't go into his study and climb into his lap. Now it's more of a passing affair, we may greet one another in the halls with a smile and a nod, or only one or neither if one or both of us is busy. Yes, like friends.

I believe I once heard Impa say that my father sometimes seems to wish he could either avoid me entirely or be near my constantly because I look like my mother. She said this to someone else though, not me, I just happened to overhear her. I suppose I hold very little opinion of this, but non-the-less recall the comment regardless? My father and I hold a relationship of friends with one another, perhaps only more formal than my friendship with Link. It is more of what is held between an uncle and a niece I suppose, not quiet that of parent and child. We share a sort of unspoken agreement on our relation; not allowing it to mean much as to how we regard one another.

Perhaps this is in part why I found last night's conversation so different from those we've had before. It began normally of course; we spoke of small things, preparations for Prince Ralph's arrival, matters of the state and events within the castle itself. He asked after my studies and then snuffed out a number of the candles which lit the chamber, bidding me relight them to demonstrate, chill a pitcher of water or refill it without moving, and other such displays. All commonplace.

But then something about the evening's tone changed, he seemed to become quiet and I allowed the silence to grow so that he may regain his thoughts as he seemed to mull on something. He then said something which surprised me, he said _"You look so much like your mother."_ An odd comment indeed, to speak of my mother. I doubt I've ever heard him speak a sentence longer than that very one about my mother in my life before. And then he surprised me again by continuing to speak of her!

"_I can remember her at your age now; you mirror her face, Zelda." _I was struck entirely to silence by this; Impa has told me much the same thing for quiet some time now. But again, my father and I have never spoken of my mother. All that I know of the Queen are scant things; I have seen a portrait of her- one portrait- which included my father and hangs in his study, normally behind a velvet curtain, that she planted my garden for me before I was even born, and that the day of my birth was the day of her death.

I've never been sad to think on this though; even now I hardly feel a pang for her lost life. Perhaps I feel sadness for my father, brief, fleeting, more than a slight sympathy. But again, it is as if we shared some other relation than that of father and daughter.

A very different take on the conversation between us; and yet the most unexpected change came after all of this even. I know he didn't know how to start onto the topic, he fumbled the words more times than I have ever seen him do so before. My father always maintains stable eye-contact with his courtiers, always plans his words before he speaks and never corrects himself. But last night he could do none of these things with me.

"Marriage," I murmur, seemingly almost to come back to myself. Last night did not so much worry me as merely catch me off guard. Sighing as I continue to rest my chin against the curled fingers of my left hand, my elbow's still on the stone sill of my window. The stained glass breaks up the sunlight trying to peek over the mountains to the east, but I am still able to see easily into the courtyard. I believe Link is already gone by now, I doubt I was up early enough to see him off.

Clad in a china blue nightgown, a white robe thrown on over the sheer garment and a wide blue ribbon left undone around my waist, my slippered feet tap against the stone floor along the walls left uncovered by my wide blue area rug. I hold my brush of dark brown wood in my right hand, bobbing it up and down listlessly as my mind continues to drift and my hair remains unbrushed. I have yet to choose an outfit for the day, and Impa hasn't yet arrived for the morning, perhaps still thinking I'm asleep.

"Marriage," I repeat, this time trying to pull my thoughts from the castle walls and what little of the town I can see from my open window. I begin to wonder why this idea hasn't occurred to me before this. The idea of being wed. I'm obviously a woman now, I needn't even look in a mirror to be sure, merely down! Most women my age are already married by now, if not mothers! So why is this the first time I've thought of it?

I sincerely doubt that this is the reason for Prince Ralph's visit, Link and Impa both informed me that this was merely a good-will trip the Prince is undertaking to most other lands as well. He's showing that Labrynna's ties with her sister lands will not change because she is once again ruled by an Ambi. And all of that aside, I can recall meeting the brash young man once before, and he was entirely infatuated with the Oracle of Ages, the woman who bares my goddess's name; Nayru.

No, that isn't the reason for this, and I should hope my father isn't trying to bring this up at the same time as his visit to have me consider him; perhaps merely because I am of the age now? Hold, that sounds like an odd though… I simply do not feel at the moment that I am looking for something such as that because I have yet to feel that way for anyone. I am not saying or reasoning that I would simply refuse any notion of marriage. But that does not sound right either, I don't… quiet know what I'm trying to tell myself really.

I give my head a slight shake and push away from the window, leaving my brush there as I fold my arms and wander slowly back towards the vanity table which rests against the wall directly across from said window. A circular mirror with a silver frame rests on the wall directly above the polished surface of the light wood, and the right height for myself to use.

My bed rests to my right, and my door to my left. I have a wide desk facing the wall to my right as well, it rests in the space between the foot of my bed and the wall. This setup means that I in fact face the wall when I write my letters, but most of my actual work is done in my study down father in the castle. Perhaps my room is a bit small, but in my opinion it is a comfortable space. A few paintings of various Hylian landscapes decorate the walls, and I have thick blue drapes along both sides of my window.

Moving to sit on my bed, resting in the center of the dark blue quilt in a manner similar to the area rug on my floor is a large image of the Golden Triforce. Our Kingdom's symbol is everywhere around the castle really, on the livery of every servant, pressed into door handles and window latches, and it's even on the bedding as well.

Four posts of white wood at the corners of my bed hold up a wide canopy of sheer black cloth. Curtains of lace a sky blue which fades to nearly white at the bottom and which tie up to the posts with thick white ribbon. I rarely untie the curtains unless it's summer when it's warmer and there are bugs when I open the window. But since it's still spring technically I haven't yet undone them, and am able to simply walk over and seat myself on the edge, pulling one of my thick, downy pillows up to my chest and resting my chin on it silently.

"Marriage…"

* * *

"Salvin," It is early this morning as I walk down the castle halls, my shoes trumping dully upon the thick wool carpets rolled down each corridor. I left behind one of my clerks a few moments earlier, approving the rapidly forming plans to welcome the Labrynnian Prince to Hyrule, and now find myself calling after one of my closer advisers.

The young man pauses as I call out to him, making to flick away a spot of dust from his deep roan tunic before he offers me a low and flourishing bow. A very charismatic man; Salvin, not swift to show off his wealth, but makes his status well known to any whom he meets. A very proud man, but who knows his place, seeks to hold firmly to it, and make people aware of it.

"Majesty," He speaks, addressing me with a tone as velvet as the cloth across his torso. Rising from his bow, his outfit appears almost plain in design until one takes note of the material and overall true cut of his clothing. The loose white shirt beneath his tunic is nearly sparkling even without full daylight upon it, his boots up to just below his knees and polished while moving cleanly from top to bottom. His red tunic and pants of a similar shade have bits of gold embroidery upon them as well. His hair is a darker blond which is combed neatly across his scalp, doing well to frame his angular face and his sharp, mint-green eyes.

"And how are you this morning, friend?" I question, nodding in response to his bow, and gesturing for him to walk with me for the few moments I now have to myself.

"Eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Prince, as most of our country men are." He replies with a gentle smiling, walking with me and clasping his bands behind his back. A pair of leather gloves is tucked into his belt, but there is a distinct lack of weaponry. Whether he simply dislikes violence or has little knowledge of fighting; I have never thought it prudent to ask.

"I noticed the improvements with the great hall's decoration already this morning," He mentions, "However I do have a question for his Majesty."

"Well, Hyrule and Labrynna have always shared a fairly neutral relationship with one another." I say, addressing the tone of questioning in his voice as he mentions the very real energy being poured into preparations. "However, with their new monarch and sense of authority, there is a good chance- especially with this good-will venture of the prince's- that we may be able to bring about something more solid. Trade agreements and such, peace treaties to assure our good relations last for as many generations as possible. Our people have many reasons to leap at this opportunity to establish what one would call good blood between our two neutral nations." I seek to make a point through my words and feel I have reached it. As we come to a corner and we smoothly change directions, I take this as a well-timed opportunity to shift the course of our conversation back to his own concerns. "Now, what of your question?"

"To be frank, Majesty, I may have more than one." Appearing to think his own words over to himself, Salvin brings one hand up to cup his chin slightly before seeming to settle upon the proper words. However, he seems almost hesitant as he speaks, as if not sure what reaction I'll give him.

"Has his Majesty already seen a party off to greet the Prince's caravan? Forgive my intrusion, Highness, but I have not heard a whisper of an Honour Guard nor any other such fanfare being sent off to greet the caravan at our boarder… Why does his Majesty find this so amusing?" Salvin's words trail off with the blink like that of a startled hawk as I find myself chuckling softly at his concerned words. I pull my hands behind my back and clasp them at the small in a show of amusement as he looks to me for clarity.

"You have a good head, my friend. However I have already thought of and seen to this little dilemma of yours." I nod to him slightly as I come to a window which looks out into my daughter's garden, taking pause behind the stained glass I cannot see anyone down below, thus I take that as a sign that she at least is elsewhere within the castle. Looking back to Salvin, his eyes were also looking into the garden, but he seems to be trying to see what it is exactly I'm looking at when in fact there is nothing. "I sent one of my Knights to greet the Prince, he and his squire set out this morning sometime near dawn and I should think that they will reach the Prince sometime tomorrow." This information garners me a confused look from my young friend, and I chuckle again before he speaks once more.

"Pardon again, Majesty, but you've added yet another question to my roster." I nod now at this statement, giving him permission to continue. He wets his lips slightly with his tongue before speaking again. "Only, _one_ knight? Surely the castle could spare a few more men from the preparations." I chuckle all the more at his statement though.

"You are most certainly correct, Salvin." I reply; seeking to settle him as this idea seems foreign to him. "Normally a more impressive party is sent out to greet dignitaries, but in this instance I believe my one knight more proper for this duty. And that he shall perform as I would expect." I have another reason for this decision, but I do not choose to share it just yet, my young courtier's face is already beginning to turn.

"Oh, so his Majesty sent…him." Salvin's tone changes to one of blank response, his expression falling from one of mild confusion to that nearly of mild distaste. I shake my head at him and make sure to hold his gaze with my own as I hold up one hand towards him.

"Now, now, my friend, I am as much in favour of pure blood and solid homes as any man, but none can deny a man chosen by the Gods, the Triforce, the Master Sword, and Time itself to be a Hero." Oho, but he comes close to choosing to roll his eyes at my words. We have not had this conversation very often, but it has come up once or twice before. And as always I shall remain unmoved on my original choice five years ago to allow the young man to take up residence here within the castle. "I chose Sir Link to escort the Prince, they know one another from some years back and I have confidence in his diplomatic strengths. I have never seen him act in a manner unbefitting that of a Hylian Knight."

"But, Majesty," He contests, trying to argue the point I have already heard and have refused more than once before. "To send a man of no real status to greet seasoned diplomats—"

"Status?" I repeat, causing Salvin's words to stumble to a halt. Ah, but now I have this boy in my grasp, his words showing a very real flaw. "To be knighted by my own hand gives him no status, Lord Salvin? To receive orders from my lips alone and those of the gods holds no honour in itself?" His eyes widen substantially as I speak. He seems somewhat distracted today. I do not normally win banters such as this so easily, although I rarely lose. This however, is not a topic I care to debate more than once.

"Majesty, I do swear to you that you mistake my words for something else." As Salvin regains his voice and I begin to walk again, I pause to give him a look to clearly ask; _'__**I'm **__mistaken?'_ Ah, yes, I have won this small battle of words, he backs off as if to swallow his tongue before I turn once more and resume walking. Now, this is not to say he cowers or even takes that physical step away from me, he merely stands frozen for a moment as his eyes do the talking. I now set a leisurely pace for the moment to allow him to catch up to me once his voice makes a second return.

"After two questions, you mentioned a third, care you to speak it?" I question, signaling that our previous topic is dead and over with. He will not speak of it again for now at least. I am an old man, but not a fool yet. I hear his boots trumping the rugs behind me now, but he does not rise up to walk abreast with me just yet, I am king and I make now to act cross with him.

"Majesty, if I may be so bold," His tone is smooth again as it was when we greeted one another, velvety soft yet now with a hint of caution few are ever able to truly pick up upon. "My third question is after her Ladyship, one concerning the Princess.

"You choose yet another topic which we have already explored at length together, friend." I comment vaguely, shifting my own tone to sound bored with the idea, perhaps tiring slightly. This is also a conversation we've already had, and one I do not seek to repeat yet again so soon after last night.

"Have you had words though, Majesty?" Salvin's voice is pressing now, but his tone so wrapped in silken layers it is nearly impossible to hear that want.

"Five years my daughter's senior, her cousin on her mother's side, but are you seeking a suit, Salvin?" I question outright, skirting away from the general conversation we normally have concerning Zelda. If we are to speak of her then I would like to clear the air so to speak of any misconceptions. Looking towards him over my shoulder, Salvin blinks slightly at my question, before smiling with a chuckle and shaking his head no.

"A thousand pardons, my Liege, but her Ladyship the Princess is a prize I cannot see myself attaining in the near or distant future." I'm not quiet sure if I heard it or not, that note of sincerity in his voice. It is quiet difficult to tell when this young man is being sincere or not. Proud, noble Salvin; a menace at the bartering table.

"What will, be will be, friend." I reply to him, again with that vague tone, making as if to be tired still and not thinking clearly, while I maintain a keen ear out for his tone and how his voice pitches and drops as he speaks.

"But, Majesty… Whether or not I should extend a suit for the lady's hand is irrelevant when reminded that she is in fact ready to receive those suits." How sly and silky his voice can become when he wills it to. I slow my steps to a gradual stop, playing my features accordingly as I look down slightly towards the floor. Salvin comes up next to me, and his tone is nearly melodic. It is a shame his tricks do not work on me; his father and I both learned from the same man about skilling our voices and faces, and Salvin's father in turn passed on an altered version of those skills onto his sons where I have taught Zelda a bit as well.

"In the light of all these trade agreements, and peace treaties, perhaps the Princess as well should seek to gain from the Prince's good will." What he's trying to accomplish I have some idea, but allow him to speak regardless. I simply block out the melodic sound of his voice until he finishes speaking. I do not look up at him as it would likely show that his words have had no effect on me. He tried just now to plant some idea amongst my thoughts, but I believe what it is I now have to think on is completely different from what he intended. I close both eyes and give my head a shake to complete my own act, looking up at last to find him beginning to bow, again very deeply with one booted foot stepping forwards a bit.

"A thousand pardons once again, my Liege." He comments, rising from his bow as I nod slightly, making the motion somewhat rigid on purpose to fool him. "But I forgot that I had a prior engagement this morning. If you will excuse me, Majesty?" I merely murmur something resembling a dismissal to him, receiving a second bow for my time before he begins to walk past me and back the way we had come.

I wait, counting silently in my mind for a full minute before I am certain he is gone, abruptly straightening my head and back once more, giving myself a slight shake to rid myself of the melancholy mood I was attempting to drive myself into in order to fool him.

Sighing slightly, I bring one gloveless hand up to pat down on my white beard, pulling on a few strands which spill over my white shirt, my heavy red robe not yet too heavy for me to wear in the late spring heat and resting on my shoulders down to my ankles. I adjust the band of gold looped across my brow as it is lighter to wear than the crown kept within my private chambers. I then resume walking aimlessly, spinning a few silver strands of my beard together as I do so.

Seasoned diplomats he called them, the men accompanying the Labrynnian Prince. It seems Salvin hasn't done his homework at all in this case, considering Prince Ralph is the first of his resurrected line, dead some two hundred years. I believe that he might very well be spooked by too much of a crowd greeting him off of the ship, and that the Hero's presence will be of some comfort to him instead. At the very least it will be a familiar face.

Besides that I would hope that it would also be a good break for the men accompanying him; they I can assume can rank little above the lines of an elected Mayor, and perhaps a well-to-do Merchant. After so long on the road since this journey of his has already taken him to Holodrum and the Zora domains both there and in his own native Labrynna. I would think that the Prince is perhaps already growing irritable, being that after Hyrule castle he also needs to speak to yet other Zora clans both here and in far off Terminia. And of course there are the Gorons of all three or more nations; he has quiet a bit more ground to cover before he may return properly to Labrynna.

I believe that, in light of all these variables, it would be best to distance Salvin and his silver tongue from the Prince for his visit. My friend he may be, but in my position it is difficult to maintain everlasting trust in any one person…

* * *

**Yes, there will be many references to The Legend of Zelda: Oracle of Ages throughout this story, as well a few from Oracle of Seasons. **


	3. Chapter 3

**No matter what map I checked, Hyrule didn't seem to have a coast along a sea. So I butchered the maps and made one to the south.****Hehe, anyone else remember who Ambi's lover was? **

* * *

**Matters of the State**

Chapter 3

The day is cool, the sunshine warm as the sea beneath my ship's aged timbers sighs softly. The waves are small, and the white sails overhead fill just enough with the wind to push us ahead at a fair pace. I can almost feel the bow of my ship just below my Lady's aged face slicing cleanly through salty waters. Nay, 'tis not the longest voyage of my days, nor perhaps the fairest weather I have sailed, although 'tis both long and fair, but the day indeed is nice.

"Hoy, you there, man." I call, the red bandana of one of my crew appearing from below, walking out on deck from the state cabin; the entrance of which is just below this back deck here where I stand at the wheel, another of my men holding the tiller on course with a compass. "How be Young Ambi down below?" I would chuckle to say that, but 'tis a melancholy feel really. Ambi, aye how that name is one I nearly sigh to speak, but the one I speak of now is not my Lady from ages past, the one who's face adorns the head of my ship, but the young man who uses that name now.

And I'll be damned thrice over again if I dare say he isn't an Ambi! How many years it's been I shudder to think, but that boy has my Lady's tongue and wit, he's untried in the world he's fighting to break into, but he has her feisty spirit through and through. The fiery red hair he allows to fall across his one eye is as much hers as the hair I would stroke when I still had the fingers to feel it with. Five hundred years it's been or more since I last gazed upon her fair face; lost my eyes long since then but his are as sharp a grey as hers. Strange how after so long and so much mixed blood they can look so much alike.

Aha, to speak of not being able to touch and yet holding things, and to have lost my eyes yet can still see that boy's face is misleading. I see the world but at the same time I cannot. Dare say I gave the boy a shiver when my ship did pull into port some years back. Had him stare into a fleshless face and try to stand his ground as he asked my name and business that first time. I lead the young Prince's armada now, or t'least I will once he and his new court can build one.

Ne're led my Lady Queen's ships, nay, I was too far gone on the wrong side to think of that. Now I know my lessons though, trapped in a sea of whirlpools and then gazin' upon her ghost on the shores of some desert. I may still be an undead man, undead pirate most would still care to say, but I know my lessons now. Ferryin' the young Ambi from coast to coast is but a slight fare to pay on the road to what one would hope to be redemption.

"Still a bit water-logged, Cap'in, but well." My man replies, moving swiftly up from the lower deck to stand before me where I am at the wheel. Garbed in the royal blue of Labrynna now instead of the old britches and shirt he died in as we all did, a symbol of the Lady Oracle's harp rests 'pon his right breast, the shirt fitting oddly as it does on all my men. We tie out pants up 'round the spine, causing them to bunch up weird as well even without shirts made 'specially to fall over the skinny part. The red bandana he and my men each wear though is to be expected; no one wants to see a crew of sun-bleached bone scalps. Their shirts are all a light blue, pants which only go down half past their bony knees a darker shade.

No shoes though, it'd just be strange to learn how to walk in boots again with no flesh down there so-to-speak. I myself am the only one with boots, but that's always been a part of my own wardrobe, I'm Captain after all! Nice black boots I have, not stained with salt water and eaten through by lichen like my old pair.

"Gills all gone too, although he seems a bit shaky to walk." I nod to my crewman as his fleshless jaw clicks shut to end most of what he has to say. You can see it at the joints of each of us though, a bit of black light keeping the bones connected; a small bead of the same darkness behind each eye and cupped into the throat for us to speak. The gods' punishment for men of sin like us, but give us a couple more centuries; we'll work that sin off.

"Dunno why those Zora did keep him down there so long, but I was startin' to think I'd have to send one of you lot down there to fetch him!" I snarl, folding my bone-arms together across my ribbed chest. The silky white material I wear is meant to be a bit puffy to make me look a tad less odd than the rest of them, my deep blue coat rather rigid and keeping its shape well without much more than a few bits of bone holdin' it up. Gold-looking tassels and brass buttons make it a mighty nice bit of cloth; the black pants still look odd though, but I haven't a care for that.

"Last thing I need is for her first words to be nothing but raggin' on me for seeing him dead the first time he tries leavin' the country to be all Princely and such." I mutter, lowering my voice, and yet silently laughing at myself as she could be sayin' anythin' at all an I'd still be happy.

"He's talkin' straight again too, Cap'in," Is my man's simple reply, but I can see him smiling, I don't quiet know how we smile, but we do none-the-less. "But, I think it'd be best if you visit with him for a moment or two. I think he's about ready to strangle that duke or whoever he is."

"Duke? Naw, that's the Lynna City Mayor." I correct, shaking my head as I cannot blame any man related to my Ambi, or any man at all for being uptight with people like that. I don't know why in the devil he brought the man along anyways. All he's done is whine since we left the coast…

"Annoying little bugger that one." I bring one gloveless hand up and steady the wide blue brim of my hat upon my skull, not looking to the man holding the wheel as I walk a ways towards the edge of the ship's rail. I lean out slightly with one hand bracing me, turning my face into the wind as if I can smell the lands approaching.

"Hoy, you know better than to mess with any kin o' hers when they're bein' egged on." I call, looking back towards my man as he seems to be waiting for some sort of order, and I give him one too. "Go down an' inform the Young Ambi that he'll be on dry land again in a few hours. We should be reaching the Hylian coast before dusk."

I haven't a problem with ferryin' her kin around so many centuries after I wish I were nothing but foam cresting the ocean's waves. I committed my share of cruel, dastardly deeds aboard this ship, commanding my men to do the same, feeding their lust and their greed with my own. And I'll live that out solemnly since I know she's waitin' for me on the other side…

However… I think I'll be a might bit more careful next time one of those fish-heads tries to get one of those kinsmen to wear a suit that looks like fish-skin…

* * *

"And then, _splash!_ You were completely gone, my Lord! J-just sucked up by the water and pulled down into their depths. Down like a stone, you just **sank!**"

I take a moment to close my eyes, trying to take a deep breath as I feel my right eye give a slight twitch which I wish it wouldn't when I'm agitated. The Mayor's eyes are wide and worrisome, a kerchief scrunched between his thin hands and being wrung viciously to show his nerves. His thinning chestnut hair is either retaining its colour better than its thickness, or he colours it when no one's looking. Combed over to one side across his scalp, it always looks a bit oily, only more to the point that it must be something he applies rather than a lack of hygiene. The collar on his white shirt is wilting slightly, the red vest overtop it wrinkled as his pin-stripped grey trousers are creased repeatedly. I'm gong to assume that just like with the Labrynnian Zora, he didn't sleep or at least change for the time I was visiting with the Hylian sect.

At various stages of this journey I've asked myself why I brought the man along with me. I always have an answer at the end, but can't remember it just now as his high, stringy voice laces through the small cabin.

When one enters the state cabin aboard this ship, the space located below the deck the captain and his wheelman stand is more of an office and chart room than much else. A door against one wall leading down a narrow staircase as one of the entrances to the lower decks, or more notably, the one hall lined with cabin doors. I don't think this ship's crew has barracks so much as a few small rooms where they can hole themselves up if they feel overwhelmed with work on deck.

The crew itself half-unnerves me still, but I think I'm getting used to it. I don't flinch to meet their sightless but still noticeable gaze like I did a few years back when this all began. For the most part I can meet it rather well unless I'm already uneasy. And in my current mood, I don't doubt that I could even stare one down.

"Come, come now… You'll put yourself through another fit if you don't calm yourself." The third man in the room adds his own comment in with a hushed voice. His thin, pale face is one I've only seen a few times, as normally it's hidden behind a mask with a large, but bashful smile. His real face is quite close to that though; rounded out with a small, but somewhat flattened nose, thin lips adorning a wide mouth, which is now smiling comfortingly, with his thin red brows knitting together over his deep dark eyes.

His clothing is dark, and simply made. Both shirt and pants are a violet so deep it is nearly black, cut with clear lines as if to draw attention to the merchant's bony limbs and thin, frail-looking hands. His thin red hair is a few shades darker than my own, and is knotted tightly behind his head to form a small tail.

Placing one slender hand upon the mayor's arm, he seems to tug at the shorter man for a moment to catch his eye; something I would assume he's quiet good at, even when he wears the masks he also sells. The mayor's whining whittles off bit by bit until I can hardly hear it, and I shake my head as he normally isn't this bad at all.

"Will you stop panicking?" I question sharply, watching to the Mayor with a disgruntled look as I no longer want to hear his mewling. He closes his red rimmed eyes as I doubt he's been stooping down so low as to cry, but he's distressed and lowers his head slightly as I close my eyes again and lean my head back down on the stiff pillow I have aboard ship. A loose, white shirt with ties undone at wrists and neck covers me to my waist, but the wool blankets of the bed come up farther to lie across my chest and hide the black britches I have on underneath. Walking was uncomfortable when I was hauled back aboard a few hours ago, and I was more or less carried to the bed where I lie now. I don't know if the keeling of the ship has anything to do with it or not, but it seems likely.

"Any news on how long it'll take us still to-?" My question is cut off and I look towards my right as the small door to my cabin is abruptly rapped against. My two _'Viziers'_ look back and forth between one another and myself before I nod and gesture as best I can with my eyes to tell them to let whoever it is in. Unfortunately, they then begin to silently, and rather forcefully, make hand signs to decide who should actually move. Finally, I roll my eyes and give shout out to whoever it is.

"Come in." I say, making the other two men pause and each give me an abashed look. However, for all their short comings, one is a politician, and the other a business man, and both wipe their faces of near any emotion as the door swings open. I half expected the Captain to stride in, but instead my stomach just chills at the sight of a crewman instead.

Yes, I still feel uneasy around this crew of damned souls, but they do their job well; they'll sail me anywhere more loyally and with far more speed than any other band of men I could ever pull together on my own. They work longer hours, not weighing anchor at night as we continue on at the same pace as their strength doesn't falter since they have no flesh to speak of. Their ship alone is built for more speed, as she can only hold roughly a quarter of the provisions a normal ship can, she's thinner and slides through the water with a deeper hull to keep her steady in stormy weather.

My two men here, myself, a scribe, and five guards make up this tiny party of mine, and we're the only ones aboard who require food and drink aside from the nine horses who were unlucky enough to be chosen to come with us.

What some ships use for gun powder and cannon fodder is more of a stable aboard this one. Sure, the men still have those supplies, but they're tied up on deck, and are in a tiny amount compared to most other vessels, but this isn't a vessel made for fighting. _The Fair Lady_ can out-run most any ship in either Labyrnna or Holodrum, and Hyrule is too far inland to worry about pirates. Although, yes, there's been talk of picking up more supplies and maybe exchanging our horses for Hylian ones once we make landfall, it's not like we didn't do the same thing with some of them in Holodrum.

"M'lord," The crew man says, his yellow, cracked teeth parting just slightly as he speaks, the gap between opening and closing just slightly as there are no lips or tongue to take attention from it. The crew tends to speak with a somewhat more notable slur than their captain. "Cap'in says we're only a couple 'a hours from the Hylian coast by now. An' that you an' yer men should be gettin' ready ta go ashore if naught by this evenin' then 'morrow mornin'."

"Very well. My men and I will be ready to depart once we reach the mainland." I reply, nodding towards him, and I ignore whatever unease being addressed as a lord might still give me. If I'm going to let myself feel uneasy amongst my own men, then I might as well go home now and not risk appearing in Hylian Court. However, if I don't get off this damned ship soon I'm going to scream. "Does your captain have anything else he'd like to inform me of?"

"Aye, M'lord." The skeleton man replies, clicking his fleshless jaw together once as he nods his head. "T' 'void any problems o'shore, Cap'in says we 'an the _Fair Lady'll_ be out ta' sea as we 'ave in o'er lands ye visited, Highness. We be keepin' an eye out fer a signal from land o'course. Same as always." I nod again as he informs me of this, it's little I haven't heard already, few lands enjoy having a pirate crew moored in their harbors.

"Alright then." I say, "Leave us for now, my companions and I will be ready to eat soon. Give us warning of perhaps an hour before we're ready to land." The once-man nods again before giving me a stiff, unpracticed bow, exiting and shutting the cabin door behind him. This leaves me once again with my two viziers, but I tune them out to think more on my own thoughts than anything else.

The pair of them talk and talk for what seems like hours but probably isn't. The same old topics, the salty food, the cramped quarters, that storm we sailed through several nights past. But there's some new things to say now, or rather, old topics left untouched so long that they seem new. How we'll be welcomed in Hyrule, what the King will think of our convoy, are we prepared, what is there to prepare? And on and on, but still, my mind simply wanders.

"I wonder how that dopey mime's been doing…"

* * *

"Is it them, my Lord?" I ask tentatively, watching the horizon as I stand to the side and behind my Liege. The ocean's waves sigh in the pre-dawn hours, the sun only just cresting the mountains to the east of us as we stand facing the south. If I dab at my lips with my tongue, they taste of salt.

The tall masts of a ship have been on the horizon for the quarter of an hour now, steadily drawing nearer. About the time I spotted them, my Liege moved towards our campfire and began to stack it up into a right large blaze. We've camped here only one night, and I am fairly glad to see how prompt the Prince's ship- if it is he's who sails towards us now- is in its arrival.

"Aye." He answers at last, his blue gaze hidden from me before I see a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He glances towards me from over his shoulder, his cap waving just slightly with both the motion and the sea breeze. "You should start picking up camp, I'll help you in a moment. Leave the fire though, depending on his Majesty's condition, we might be staying here for a while yet."

"At once, my Lord. Although you don't need to worry, there's little enough to pick up." I answer, the first part I must admit, is semi-automated, drilled into myself and each of the other squires of his majesty's court. The explanation I offer to accompany the refusal of aide is something I've learned in my fostering to add on; often my Liege needs a reason _not_ to help.

It takes another half and quarter hours before the white sails of the ship are drawn in, and one can assume the anchor cast. I myself swiftly finish strapping the last of the gear my Liege and I scattered around our small camp to their places in our packs I leave the horses for the most part undisturbed aside from brushing them down a bit and allowing them a few welcome handfuls of oats. I ready the saddles, blankets, and packs anyways, so once my Lord deems us ready to leave, we shall be off within a few minutes.

"There he is…" I glance over towards my Lord where he has remained standing a few feet from the water's edge since he finished with the fire. I add a few more pieces of wood to the blaze myself before resuming my position off behind him. Somehow, despite how still he is, my Lord seems oddly anxious, excited even.

Looking out over the water I can see two long boats rowing ashore. The blue bandanas which I assume belong to the crew are bright in the mid afternoon sun as soon the cries of the oarsmen soon reach my ears over the sigh of the waves. There is little, if any, fanfare, so I can only assume the Prince to be in the first boat coming within range.

"Timothy, take these and step back please." I blink slightly as my Lord reaches around his shoulders, undoing the clasps of his thick cloak before I find the garment, and my Lord's bow and quiver thrust upon me. I don't stumble under the weight as he isn't careless enough to throw them at me, shuffling off back behind the fire and our packs in a semi-obedient manner as I eye him curiously over my burden.

It is about this time that I see movement in the first long boat now within fifty yards of the beach. A man about my Lord's age stands up on the small bow with one black-booted foot resting on the prow. He wears a simple white shirt which billows in the wind, tied at wrists and laced below the throat before tucking into his dark blue britches lined with a red sash. Of course, clothing is not something of great interest, and my eyes soon are brought up to the man's flaming red hair, something unfamiliar to Hyrule.

And then I see his sword.

It happens all so quickly and within the mere blink of an eye, as the hull of the long boat grinds against the shore, the flame-haired man is in the air. I absently hear the hiss of steel over the clatter of my Lord's belongings on the sandy ground beneath me as my Liege's sword flashes in the sunlight. I hear the sharp clanging of steel on steel, like the temple bells in my head, over and over so that I can't tell if I'm simply hearing the echo of the first blow or if their blades are still hitting one another.

My eyes reveal little more to me of the fight really, for I'm too stunned with what's happening. My Lord's blade is a whirlwind of steel, slicing, parrying, jabbing, twisting. Not even in courtyard matches against other knights have I seen his skills flaunted so, I suppose I feel a strong sense of pride well up at this, for this is the same man who teaches me the sword each afternoon. But now, perhaps more than proud I'm intimidated. My Lord is ridiculed for both his lowly birth and his gentle nature, to see him nimbly bending around the Prince's blade, his light feet more tuned to the occasional carefree jig carrying him fancifully in complex patterns with his opponent. It's a startling change. What's more; the Prince is on par with my Lord, blow for blow. I must rethink that analogy of my Lord being more in favor of dancing over swordplay, as I watch the two of them looping circles around the other, it's no less a dance than anything the Great Hall has seen.

This is the stuff of wars right here before me; and I feel suddenly cold just thinking about that. Labrynna has been without a monarch for two hundred years give or take, and thus has been in a state of peaceful anarchy. Could it be that the revival of an ancient bloodline is somehow a threat to our own nation?

News of the Prince's coming was on horrifically short notice. Why, the voyage itself must have taken weeks for him to arrive. And to arrive by ship at all is odd, as Hyrule's coast is shunned for the most part. Only a few meandering trails through the south of the Faron and Kokiri woods lead to the mostly sharp, cliff-faced shorelines of our nation. This one little beach is only several yards across, and the waters dangerous with rocks.

No fanfare, no honor guard, meeting in such a secluded place, the sudden ferocity of my Lord's swordsmanship. This isn't… we haven't been assigned to… Oh gods… Oh, Farore no, don't tell me his Majesty selected my Liege and I to find the Prince and-_!_

"Ooh… Majesty please be careful, mind the fire…"

This voice just off to my right, completely and utterly unmans me if only for just the briefest moment. I'm so captured by my thoughts of this hideous deed my Lord has been selected to fulfill that I let out a boyish shriek and jump nearly out of my skin.

"_Aah!! _…Oh, goodness me, boy! You scared me!" My cheeks flush, no, my entire face bursts aflame as I suddenly return to the here and now, still hearing the echo of the swordfight, and feeling the haunting chill of my conclusion, but paying attention again.

I find myself staring wide-eyed at a man who's face I first think is a mask carved of smooth, pale wood, as his expression is one of abashed shyness and only changes in the slightest when he tilts his head to the side to look at me oddly before he bends down. I don't know what he's doing until he straightens back up with the thick green of my Lord's cloak, and dusts some of the sand off of it. To be honest, as I notice the frailness of his thin, willowy hands and arms, I'm surprised he can even lift the garment to give it back to me. I dropped it when the swords came out…

"My Lord! Oh, Nayru! Majesty! By Din! My Lord! Look out! Oh dear! _AH!!_" I glance around hurriedly to find the source of the voice, my eyes swiftly finding a small man in a modest townsman's attire squeaking anxiously off to the side of the whirlwind fight. He seems to embody the panic I'm trying to force back down, his thin hair flopping and messing itself as he reminds me instantly of a chipmunk. A frightened, jittery chipmunk…

"W-Who are you?" I croak, snatching the cloak back and grabbing the bow and quiver before his reedy fingers can take them too. Part of my mind reprimands me for acting so skittish.

"We? Oh, yes yes, I am Ferran, a Merchant and advisor of his Majesty Prince Ralphael." I would say that the man's response is polished, but to be frank I could have done better. His voice lacks the velvet tones of a practiced vizier such as those present within His Majesty's court, and he words things to simply, calling himself only, _'a Merchant'_. To be honest, this jolts me back into a proper state of mind again, and I regain a few scraps of my composure.

"Oh no! My Lord! EGAD!!"

"-And that would be Percy, Mayor of Lynna City and another of our Prince's Advisors." I look between this thin man and his panicking counterpart for a moment, admittedly confused and lost right now. And then at last I find myself once again staring at our two lords battling one another. Actually, I look back in time only to cry out in time with one of the Viziers as the fighting abruptly ends. One final clash of swords goes askew, and I watch it happen as though the world momentarily slows for me.

I don't quite know how they were coming at one another, but my Lord's foot slipped on a patch of loose gravel and finally I understand; they're sparring. Otherwise they'd both be dead as my Lord's blade slides towards his opponent's throat, and is nearly impaled on the Prince's blade in return. Instead, they both jerk their arms, and a terrifying moment later, I watch the fire-haired prince tentatively touch the shallow gash across the left side of his jaw, and my Lord tumbles backwards in a heap fingering the tear in his tunic's side. They just sit and stand like that for a moment before I notice my Liege's lips moving soundlessly before he stands, sunlight reflecting off of the chain mail exposed in the finger-width slash.

"I won." There's a hiss of steel before the prince's long- and now I notice, slightly curved- blade is returned to its sheath at his hip and he extends one hand towards my Lord to help him up.

"On a technicality." Is my Lord's simple reply, "Technically I drew first blood." Their conversation leaves me breathless, and I feel light headed as my Lord's blade slips back into the scabbard across his back with a clatter and he dusts himself off.

"Why you-! You're wearing armor!" Is the heated; perhaps even spiteful reply. Dimly, I notice that the second boat was carrying lightly armored guards, less than a half dozen… who look more like peasants given swords and have no idea how to use them. I take a moment and find myself staring as one of them seems to be wearing a pot on his head… As well, the Prince's coloring doesn't seem to be so uncommon in Labrynna, as at least one or two others have rusty hair poking out from under their ruddy armor, but none so vibrant as their lord's. The long boats returned to the ship a while ago, but now I see them coming back loaded with a number of very unhappy and very skittish horses… something seems odd about the crew…

"How long do you think you guys'll need before you can ride decently?" I hear my Lord question, and the Prince seems to mull over this for a short time before looking to the sky. I notice then that he's also taken a seat at our fire, and is dabbing at his jaw with his sleeve. Mechanically I make my way towards the saddle bags and rummage around for the first aid kit. It doesn't look like it'll need stitches.

"An hour perhaps, we've been canned up in there for a while, Link." I notice how relaxed the tone suddenly seems to be, it was charged with the fighting, lined with panic with the shouts from the mayor… speaking of whom, I glance over to see Farran, the merchant, bent over the poor man now where he's laying stone cold in the sand. I can assume he fainted at the sight of his lord's blood. "Horses need to limber up, and you had me running in to many circles…"

"Shall I set out the bedrolls and try to find us our dinner, M'lord?" I ask, although it's out of place. My Liege seems surprised to hear me speak and glances towards me as I come up to them. I bow to the Prince before gesturing to the small container of balm in my hand. His expression contorts into one of unpleasantness before he looks towards my Lord with a single word.

"Squire?" Oddly enough, I bristle at the comment, he makes it sound as though I'm an annoyance! I feel an immediate sense of dislike from this, which compounds with my earlier apprehensions from when he leapt at my Lord from the boat…

"Ah, yes, Ralph, this it Timothy, my squire. Don't make that face, he's a good kid, and higher born than me, y'know." My Lord gives a rueful grin as he says that, and I lock my knees to keep from shuffling my feet before he nods to me. "Good idea, we'll camp the night then, it'll just help Castle Town prepare something even more flamboyant for _His Royal Majesty_." I look back to the Prince as I feel a tug at my hands and he takes the balm from me, he looks dejected.

"The whole point of this was to _avoid_ pomp and fuss…" He sounds as though he's whining, he really does! Opening the balm, I watch him take a small amount on one finger and begin to apply it to the wound himself; it's already clotting anyways, nothing serious as I'd thought. "Hell, why else would I want you to come of all people? Last thing I wanted was to land in the midst of a carnival that'd go silent the moment I hit the beach… Thanks." I blink, again, in surprise as the balm is handed back to me with the curtsey. I'm slowly beginning to understand my Lord's excitement at seeing this Prince again. Already I can surmise that they know one another from some sort of adventure on my Lord's part, but more importantly they both seem to be **insanely** uncomfortable with ceremony and etiquette. I suppose one could say they act as they are; commonly born.

"And why camp the night? We should get a few hours ride in before nightfall, Link." I blink slightly and look to my Lord for the explanation. It seems odd to me that the Prince should have to ask such a simple question. My Lord looks to the Prince with that twinkle in his eye that lets those around him know that he knows something they don't, but want to.

"Welcome to Hyrule, Ralph." Is his simply replies. "While you're here I'll sneak you out of the castle for a midnight ride, and you can see how fun it is here."

"Hmph. I demand to be taken to dinner first! I am Royal you know, you won't get me alone that easily." I look between them once again, confused as I can hear what they're saying, but with the twinkle in my Lord's eye and the sudden flare the Prince added to his words, puffing out his chest and such when he declared his position, I think I'm missing a key part of things…

"You go now, Timothy, I can set things up for cooking, just make sure you watch the sun. We might need about two or three rabbits tonight though." I nod as I'm given my task for the evening, although I dislike the idea of my Lord having to prepare things for the Prince like a servant, I am quick to leave the odd camp site a few moments later with a sling and a few choice stones. Most boys my age choose the bow since they're old enough now, but my Lord can be frugal sometimes, especially with arrows. When I first came into his service and showed my none-existant skills with the sling, he even went so far as to sneak me out and away from chores just to make me practice.

I watch the sun closely as I hunt through the thick southern reaches of the Kokiri and Faron woods, and am pleased with my rabbit and pheasant as I make my way back.

To my utter horror, I return to see the Prince Ralph and my Lord Link bickering over the campfire blaming one another for collapsing the metal spits into the flames, now completely unusable.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Praise me, after weeks of not actually having a set **_**'problem'**_** for this story- which has contributed to the painfully slow pace it's taken- I have a plot instead of just mindless drama! Now my not-so-nice people have reasons for being not-so-nice!**

**Also, I'm taking a lot of description from the Twilight Princess map, thus the reference to the Faron Woods last chapter. But since I already stated that this is the same Link from Ocarina of Time, I kinda merged in a few things as well. Sorry for the confusion- if any.**

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* * *

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 4

My first night in Hyrule, needless to say, was misleading. We camped on the sandy beach my men and I landed on with Link to allow us and our horses a chance to regain our _'land legs'_. I don't really know why we camped when it was still a few hours till sunset, but considering how long it took to stop walking with a sailor's sway, perhaps it was for the better after all.

All throughout the time we were under the loosely traveled paths of the forested south I felt an odd tingling sensation along the back of my neck. Link reminded me that much of the power of the Gods still resides in Hyrule, in the trees, air and water. I commented on how much it felt like the sanctums of the Maku Tree and Essence Caves back home, and he agreed, but we both admit that Hyrule is distinctly different.

It still feels odd to be here, in a land so many people spin so many tall tales about. In fact, to humor myself and my men, I took to questioning him about some of those tall tales. I've since learned that Hylians can't talk to trees not bound as spirits of the forest- such as the Maku and Deku trees, they can't call down the gods on a whim, most of them can't read, only the Royal Family and their court of which Link is now a part live in a castle, and aside from having pointed ears, they're pretty much the same as anyone else. I have to say it was amusing to watch his squire's ears turn red when I jokingly asked whether Hylians truly do have a ritual ceremony for when they sneeze.

Getting through the expansive woods took some time, a full day of riding which left us with any number of things to discuss. He questioned me, of course, about the goings on of Labrynna since I established myself as a monarch. From what he said about it, it seems I'm in for a lot of problems come Hyrule Castle…

"Err… It wasn't really my idea…" I admit, albeit quietly as we break for a small lunch of dried meat, cheese, hard bread, water from a nearby creek, and a few sweet berries from a nearby bramble.

"You know, I don't doubt that." Is Link's reply, I watch him curiously for a moment as he stands by his mare, Epona, and checks her hooves over for loose stones. It's so odd not to have him standing rigidly in front of me, seemingly ashamed to meet my eyes and tacking _'milord'_ onto the end of every sentence. I haven't felt this relaxed in ages as I hold Epona's reigns for him to make sure she doesn't dance around too much as he inspects her after the morning's travel. His squire's off scouting I think. I don't want to know where the Mayor is.

"So, explain it to me then. How much did she have to bug you about it before you gave in?" I bristle at that, and I catch a glimpse of him smirking as he takes a small blade out of his belt to dislodge an offensive stone. I feel the sudden urge to give him a kick, or set that goofy green cap of his on fire… Although I don't quite know how I'd manage the latter, so I go with the kick. I'm satisfied by his yelp, and calm Epona with a few words before the horse gives me a very clear look of displeasure. Perhaps I should've waited for him to put the blade away first…. Finally I answer him.

"It was a dispute with Symmetry City, if you must know." I reply as Link gives me a sour look before going back to his task, putting the horse between us as he checks a different hoof. "For all that you undid its undoing; history's obviously gone a bit awry. You gave Nayru a week long headache for that one actually, sorting out all the missing persons between Symmetry and Lynna."

"Finally, once she managed to put everything in order, there came the problem of government. Symmetry's glasswork and pottery are the best in our country, and obviously they want to trade it. They wanted to build a road between the two cities, a fine idea, but no one wanted to foot the bill. The obvious thing to do would be to elect some sort of council to deal with it, but you remember Symmetry…" I let the words trail off.

"Ah, to elect someone you need over half of the people. First of all, singling one person out in a society of even numbers doesn't work, and they might very well set the volcano going if they actually had a majority on any sort of issue." I can sense the humor in his voice as the village isn't that sensitive, but the people do seem to get a bit snotty when things aren't balanced in town.

"Nayru whispered all the wrong things in all the wrong places and got people thinking about a government, actually, she got them thinking about a monarch." I frown to recall those hectic months a few years ago, that was when people first started seeing me as something other than a woodsman's son. People in town would stop when they saw me coming down the street and just watch me; some even began to bow after a while. "If it wasn't for that damn fire…"

"What fire?" Link comes up along my left side carrying a feeding sack for Epona. Hooking it over her head after checking the level of food inside, he leans on his heavily-built mount and looks at me curiously.

"Oh, right, I didn't mention it did I? We had a bad drought about two or three years ago. Half of Lynna went up in flames when fire started in the highlands." Ah, it's his turn to frown now, his arms crossed as Epona swings her head around slightly with a look I take to be one questioning his use of her as a wall. "A few people died in the blaze, I wasn't even aware of what I was doing until I saw myself directing lines to get water from the river- damn thing almost dried up on us that year. A few weeks later it seems they had a referendum without informing me, and I thought they'd come to kill me when a mob arrived at my house in the middle of the night."

"And now you're a Prince." I almost punch him for the goofy grin that abruptly spreads across his face from one pointed ear to the other. "Lynna really has enough sway to make you Prince of all Labrynna?" At that I shake my head.

"Naw, I was pretty much just in charge of everything within Lynna's boundaries. One thing just sort of led to another though; the Maku Tree was apparently doing as much pushing politically as Nayru was, so she gave me control of the forests up to the Goron Range. Lynna already controlled the forests where I lived so I gained jurisdiction over that and the burial grounds. Fairies are easy enough to appease so that gave me the west and a bulk of the north, I promised the North West Passage to Symmetry and gained their support as well. Nayru either found or pilfered a few ancient copies of Labrynna's old boarders from the time of the last dynasty, so I worked off of those." I don't even realize how much I'm talking until I find myself on my own horse and our party moving out again through the woods with myself and Link at the head of the train. There's no wagon with us, which is good, because the horses themselves are having a bit of difficulty with the trails we're following.

"And the Zora and the Gorons?" He asks sometime later after we fall into an easy silence, "They rule themselves, but here in Hyrule at least the Goron Elders and the Zora monarch pay homage to his Majesty the King. Do you do something similar, or are you all three separate nations?"

"Actually, I wanted it to just be three nations, but a year ago a troop of Gorons rolled down Lynna's main boulevard bearing gifts, seals, and treaties. They also brought maps and outlined a stretch of mountains which include three Goron tribes and said they would honor me as Prince of Labrynna." I explain, momentarily losing sight of the forest in exchange for Lynna in crisp autumn reds and golds, and the black, brown, and red rocky skins of the three represented Tribes before that terrifying, bone-crushing embrace. "Later that winter three Zora came ashore and did exactly the same thing. I think that's the Maku Tree's doing again, she probably sent word to Jabu Jabu and Big Brother…"

"Well, no need to sound so cynical about it, Ralphie." Link replies in a breezy manner, he seems to be enjoying himself far too much as he twists his horse through and around gnarled roots and aged logs. I simply allow my own black mare to plod along at her own pace, trusting her feet more than my eyes.

"Would you rather them hindering you at every turn? You're assembling a nation, doing your ancestors proud. Look at it this way; you get to decide who stays and who goes, and get to eliminate any unsavory characters from the power-grab. Me, I get stuck with whoever inherits what from some musty old treaties, and since I'm only a knight, I just ride in whatever direction his Majesty points."

"Yes, and thus, as a Knight, when things go badly it sure as hell isn't your fault. Don't tell me you honestly think you have it harder than your own king." I say that with an air of authority although I didn't mean to. However, despite all the glamour and fantasy surrounding the Hylian court from the outside, I can't really believe it to be a tenth as tidy and simple as bards make it out to be. After my own problems back home, it just doesn't work.

"I wouldn't know the specifics, and besides, a good servant does not speak of his Master's business." He just grins, and as I pass under a few low hanging branches from the path, a pinecone whips past his head and I glower at him.

"Back to what I was saying though," He remarks, our horses coming abreast with one another again as the path widens to accommodate us. "About Nayru, can you really say it's so horrible to have her running around doing these things for you? Discussing treaties, spreading good word and will about you, being an Oracle, I'm surprised she isn't here with you now." My face warms and I try to keep it from happening, my mind abruptly seeing images of a heart-shaped face framed in lustrous waves of blue, like the waters of a summer spring. Two sapphire eyes reflecting warmth and humor from a pure soul; I sigh without thinking.

"She's acting as Regent for me in my absence." I explain, "She's overseeing the construction of both the North West Passage to Symmetry and the North East Route to the Goron Range."

"But you wish she was here." He gives me a sly, sidelong look and for the first time all day I don't meet his gaze. I feel my face heating and struggle to control the expression as Link just snickers to himself in amusement.

"Regent, not Princess?" He mentions coyly, and I feel myself sinking into the deep blue cloak I tossed on when we began our ride this morning. Damn him…

"His Royal Majesty King Raphael I of Labyrnna, and his Oracle Queen. Sounds like a fairy tale, doesn't it?" Link chides me as I seek to bury myself into the garment even more before a rough clap on my back startles me slightly. He's still laughing before I send him a pointed glare.

"Sir Link of the Triforce, Farore's Chosen One of Courage, One of His Majesty's Vanguard following a certain Princess around… Sounds like a scandal, doesn't it?" That certainly shuts him up damn good and well for all of three seconds as I sit there seething, then he brushes it off… bastard.

"Ah, no. I think not. The Princess and I are well acquainted, but not like that. And what makes you think it'd be a scandal even if it were?" He brushes it off, but he doesn't resume his damned smiling, I didn't hit a nerve, but maybe a sore spot? I'll admit my recollection of Link and the Princess Zelda is vague for the most part, most of what I know comes from word of mouth which is horribly unreliable. And all that says anyways is that the Royal Family of Hyrule favors the Hero of Time for a variety of obvious reasons.

"Even a bumpkin like me can figure that out, stupid. How many people in the castle expect me to ride in covered in ribbons and bells, decked out in gold rings and sparkling gemstones atop a brilliant white horse, hundreds of years of selective breeding carving Fire knows what into my face? A Fairy Boy chasing after the Princess will probably send someone into epilepsy just as swiftly as announcing that my father was a woodsman."

"It'll win your people over at least, doesn't really matter what Hyrule thinks so long as you don't utter threats to the State." He replies absently, as if considering the likelihood of my doing something so stupid and damning. "People like those who they think are like them. You said yourself that if you hadn't been out in Lynna directing the flow of water to save lives, they probably would've dismissed any sort of claims you made to royal blood. How would you feel if you were still a woodsman and some person tried resurrecting his hundred-year-dead bloodline of Nobility, only to sit on his ass growing fat off of useless taxes and ignore problems?" I can't help him, I laugh,

"I'd tell him to get the hell off my land since my claim goes back_** five**_ hundred years, and probably help lead a rebellion to unseat him." I'm grinning at that, the green monkey chuckling appreciatively with me as we once more seem to lapse into an easy silence.

I'm a long ways from home and have been for a while now, but it's better to be traveling with someone I know and trust. I won't shirk even to the King of Hyrule to say that I sincerely wished for Link to succumb to a swift and perhaps even messy death or form of maiming during his time in Labrynna several years ago. I hated him then. And it wasn't until the very end of all our troubles, when the black tower assembled by Dark Forces was nearly complete to destroy our land that I put my petty dislike aside. And for the months following the death of the witch Veran, which also included Link's recovery from his injuries sustained atop the tower, we built up at first a courteous relationship, and then a real friendship. I can't say I wasn't worried that coming here I wouldn't know the stupid Fairy Boy anymore, but needless to say I'm as comfortable riding here with him now as I could be in the woods back home.

And then we hit the plains…

With the sun beginning its descent, the rolling fields of the Hylain plains are a sight in mid spring. It's almost a start to exit the forest and instantly be standing before such a great vastness, and I hear a few awed exclamations from the men I've brought with me as even in the distance, the high, crowning tops of Hyrule Castle are visible in the sunlight, although they still seem a world away. I can only imagine that the palace is huge now as I see the towers from so far away, although I believe it is only the angle of the sun which illuminates it and reveals the points to only the keenest of eyes. I momentarily think of Ambi's Tower back home, and how it can be seen nearly from the Goron Range atop the highest mountains. But I doubt Hyrule Castle holds as many dark memories.

As we ride I'm surprised at the lack of farming. Link and his Squire are of course the ones leading us, taking us along the bend of a river. Normally, I would expect to see farms patched across the land, as when I fall back a bit behind Link's mount I can see her hooves digging into dark earth, the sort farmers prefer. There's certainly signs of grazing though, but it seems a waste.

"Seems odd, doesn't it?" Link says, looking over his shoulder at my men and I, he smiles in a relaxed manner, unperturbed by the waste I see around me. We do eventually pass a farm or two, but they're close together, and I can see them flanking a wide, walled fort in the distance, perhaps another quarter hour's ride.

"Would you like me to ride ahead and have them prepare for us, Milord?" For a moment, I think the question is directed at myself until I see Link's Squire move up a bit to ride just behind him and to the side. Obedient boy.

"Might as well I suppose, ride all the way to the Lon Lon Ranch, Miss Malon ought to give us a loft for the night and a good meal too. Oh, and Timothy…" The two of them meet each others eyes before Link lifts one finger up to place over his lips as a symbol of silence. The boy nods and I blink at this and look to the sun. I can only frown as it's still only mid-afternoon. As the Squire kicks his horse into a light run and then a gallop to send him off, I nudge my mare forwards to ride next to Link again. I just look at him oddly.

"So soon? Seriously, Link, you make it sound as though you're in a state of war again. I'm getting sick of the saddle myself, but at least explain things to me."

He. Just. Smiles. I could punch him for it. As he smiles however, he gestures for me to lean in a bit and hear what he has to say in a quiet voice.

"S'long as you don't tell my Squire anything or inform your men, maybe I'll make that moonlit ride tonight. Make sure you bring your sword." With that, he sits back in his saddle and drops the reigns to stretch his arms slightly. Myself, I just shake my head and lean back in the saddle in an attempt to ease my aching muscles. Cramped on a ship for days on end, and then forced into a saddle all the while still eating stale bread and dried meat and fish. I'm supposed to be a **Prince** damnit…

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Five guards, two viziers, a young scribe who I almost didn't notice until we set out this morning, Ralph, Timothy, about three extra animals just for carrying things, and myself all in one party make the return trip to Castle Town a good deal slower than originally going to pick the Prince up.

Prince Ralph. Ralph the Prince. Ralph as a Royal! I still can't get over it, not even when he's flanked by his countrymen who probably have the sword skills of a band of children. Then again, that might be unfair, Ralph's probably tried teaching them the basics. To bad Ralph isn't much better. Or at least he wasn't before. Needless to say when he came at me on the beach, I was surprised when he kept up with me so well.

According to memory, Ralph's forte is with smaller weapons although it's ill advised to be near him when he's got an axe in his hands. From what I can remember of those months after Varan's defeat and of our practice matches together in the glades was that he only used a sword because of the prestige of having one to begin with. But no, he liked axes and knives more for weapons, specifically what he called a mix of the two, what looked more like a hatchet or a miniature sickle that could be fought with or thrown.

Nearing the Lon Lon Ranch was an easy enough affair, especially since Timothy did as I instructed and didn't ride in announcing our presence. To the people whose farms all cluster around the walled ranch, we probably looked like nothing more than the most recent recruitment company for His Majesty's guards. I'll admit that I like to keep a healthy friendship with the Ranch owners Talon and his daughter Malon, so our entire group was welcomed into the Ranch with open arms.

Most of Ralph's men, by this point, are nodding off in the warm lofts of the Lon Lon barn, but I've got the fiery Prince's curiosity to deal with above all else. Timothy tried to act as though the ride has not affected him, but after a second bowl of warm milk from Malon, I promptly dismissed the staggering youth for a bit of well deserved rest. I'll admit that I've left him to do most of the work with Ralph's two companions, keeping the party together, making sure the young men with less training than even him don't do something foolish with their horses or while foraging, and generally just dealing with the Mayor.

"That boy of yours is effective." I glance across the way from where I stand under one of the barn's lanterns, Ralph's footsteps sifting across the packed dirt before the firelight begins to reflect off of his equally vivid hair. "Since we left Labrynna I've been the one having to keep my men in order. You wouldn't be willing to part with him, hmm?"

"Not on your life." I say with a grin. I'm slightly glad to see that he isn't wearing a cloak, as I left mine in the barn earlier, don't need something like that getting in the way. He just pouts childishly as I refuse to sell the boy to him.

"Alright, what's so horrible?" He questions a few minutes later as we move down the dark lanes between farm houses. I've heard talk in the court that the Ranch may end up growing into a town all its own, and that's something I look forward to seeing in the future.

"Moblins, Lykes, Dragons, Centipedes, the list goes on, don't act like Hyrule's the only land with an unpleasant night life." I just give him a wide grin and watch him bristle in a furious way. I give him an overly pleasant answer of _'You'll see.'_ just to watch him squirm all the more as we approach the red torch light flanking the high wooden walls of the Ranch.

"Evenin', m'lord. Out for a midnight hunt?" One of the two guards speaks up in an easy-going, if not a bit slurred manner as we approach. The fact that his partner's most likely off sleeping instead of guarding doesn't bother me, there's no eminent threat to the area, and any minor one their might be is solved simply by the walls.

"A bit, yes." I agree, nodding and chuckling a bit with the guard who seems to be the tiniest bit tipsy. "Don't be too hasty to lock us out though, we'll be coming right back. This guy's an outlander, thought I'd give him a simple explanation for why we retire so early." I gesture to Ralph and feel his irritated glare at my back, the guard however simply gives a rumbling laugh and a slight wheezing cough before he turns his back on us and busies himself with the bolt keeping the smaller, singular door through the wall locked. We don't need the massive entry which we originally used to enter.

"Good huntin' to ye, m'lord." He says with another wheezing laugh as he lets us through. I glance back at Ralph once as we step out into the almost pitch dark beyond the light of the torches. Thankfully, after a moment or two of waiting, a bit of wind picks up from the south, and the pale light of the moon streams down over the open pasture. I give a sigh, it's nice to be away from prying eyes, even though the Ranch is a lax enough environment, people still look at me oddly.

"…And now…?" I chuckle as I hear Ralph's voice at my side, and take a few steps away from the wall.

"Patience, Princeling, patience." I say, humming and hawing for a while as I begin to lead us away from the Ranch wall. For a moment I regret not having grabbed a lamp to light our way, but there's no real reason to go back and fetch one. We're about two hundred yards from the gates before we find company.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Unfortunately, although I do like to please reviewers sometimes to the point of compromising a story, I don't plan on having to many well described action scenes. I know I was really, really leading up to one last chapter, but battles and a character's ability in them is a very weak point in this story. Sorry, guys!**

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 5

"You son of a bitch."

He grins. One of these days he's going to do that, and the next minute I'll find myself in a tribunal before his king being asked to explain my reasons for killing one of his knights. And at the breakfast table this morning that was all I could say.

"You bastard."

We're riding out in the full morning sun, Epona and my black mare trotting along next to one another for the last leg of our journey. The sun's too damn bright for my taste, and this saddle feels like stone. To say I slept well last night would be a damned lie. No, we weren't out _'hunting'_ very long, but it was certainly hard to calm down after.

The moon was out, which I can't really decide whether it was a blessing or a curse as it probably kept me from tripping and breaking my neck a couple times, and allowed me to see what I was fighting. But on the other hand, it allowed me to see what I was fighting.

Those two hundred yards between our position and the gates could have been two hundred miles for all the comfort the location provided. We were approaching a small bramble of trees and bushes when Link abruptly stopped a few paces ahead of me. Those pointed ears of his almost seemed to twitch slightly as he listened to the night and I was sorely tempted to boot him in the behind since he was making me a bit nervous by that point.

Thankfully, his hearing can't be much keener than mine, as before I could even shift my weight to allow for the kick I heard the low rumbling, grinding noise that had put him on alert. Stones clattered on the ground before the earth itself puckered in places. When one of those bulges began to form between my boots I nearly shrieked. Yes. Shrieked.

It was a goat or at least what might have… at one time… perhaps been a goat. Flesh and fur had rotted off of the bulk of it, leaving two glowing yellow sockets staring madly up at me as mutated hooves, dislocated bones, and half-remaining hides lumbered out of the ground. The smell that accompanied the ripping of the earth was worse than any slaughter house or pigsty, and to make matters worse, whatever foul magic animated the corpses was obviously not to be brought down with a simple sword swing. Instead, they prefer to be hacked to bits of rotting sinew and bone before they stop moving.

In the end, Link told me there had been perhaps seven of them. I would hazard a guess at twelve. All I know was that between the two of us we only took down about three of them before we both- as one- abandoned all dignity and sprinted like madmen to the gates, only without the screaming, babbling, and tears a pair of shameless madmen would have. My knees didn't stop shaking until nearly dawn, and I think I was sick before I even made it to bed. Lucky me.

"We aren't in any danger of the darkness, but you have to remember that a lot of darker magics have been around and in use in our lands for centuries." That's Link's explanation for things as we ride, the towers of Hyrule Castle becoming clearer ever since we set out. It seems we'll be arriving by late afternoon. "It's worse now that we're nearing the Capital, where- in their time- those evils were more concentrated. But you've seen about the worst of it now, so don't worry."

"'_We're through the worst of it now, so don't worry.'_" I mutter in a less than friendly and certainly mocking manner, taking a long drink from my water skin and absently wishing for something stronger, like brandy. "Bastard."

The morning continues on in much the same manner until after we break for an early lunch. Then things are able to go back to the easy conversation of yesterday, to be honest I enjoy hearing about what Castle Town has to offer. And this feeling increases after I tentatively and very quietly ask him what my chances are of, one, being able to sneak out of the castle without an entourage, and two, being recognized in the crowd. To my relief, his answers are very good and very bad respectively.

"So long as you don't go out covered in gemstones, ribbons and bells, no one will look twice at you." I smile to hear that, and it isn't just some coy smirk, it's a grin as I start thinking about what I can get my hands on as gifts. A certain heart-shaped face comes to mind and I force those thoughts away, replacing them with the less pleasant images and mental exercises I'm going to be needing and relying on quiet heavily for the next little while in Hyrule.

I'll admit it, I'm a cheater. The founders of almost every new monarchy normally need to learn all the tricks of the political trade from scratch, sometimes with a slightly more learned friend to help them along, but without someone who deftly knows the ins and outs of castle life. I on the other hand, have a wealth of resources at my disposal and have been taking full advantage of them.

First and foremost, I have Link here with me now. He knows Hyrule castle on a level I need insight on. Yes, I'm using him, but he knows it since he's offered up almost all the information I want or need. Next is the support I've been receiving at home namely through a bit of rule _bending-if-not-breaking_ on Nayru's part.

I've known the risks of time travel my entire life, or at least for as long as I've known the Oracle. By spending time in the past you lose _'time'_ in the present.

From the months-long foray against Veran some years ago Nayru has calculated that I've lost perhaps a year off of my life. And since Link has moved through time at so many instances throughout his life, he's probably lost more. Of course, there's always the threat of doing something insanely stupid in the past which could end up destroying your time and undoing the circumstances leading to your originally being born. Thus, this creates a time paradox since if you weren't born to begin with how could you go back and make the changes which wiped out the possibility of you being born and blah blah blah.

However, after giving it so very many long nights of thought and running over all the details with Nayru so many uncountable times, I've decided that it'll be well worth it to die at sixty-three instead of sixty-seven if it means having an easier time learning how the hell to act as the leader of a nation.

According to town records, my absence from Lynna City last winter began five days before the winter Solstice, and I returned three days after it. I also happened to return with the beginnings of a beard which I eventually shaved off and hair which was a bit longer than several days could account for. Not to mention the odd style of my clothing. However, I have no regrets about moving into the past for several months as I did.

I don't ever want to think about how many unwritten rules Nayru shattered or dismissed to send me back into the court of my ancestor Queen Ambi XII, but I value every moment I had to learn from her. I brought back several bound books of notes I took after lessons with her, and then copied those lessons out in a condensed short hand several times, hiding a couple of them so that I can always find them again if I need them. In fact, I have one of those small leather bound books in my saddle bags as we ride towards Castle Town.

We stop again only a few hundred yards from the town's Eastern gate, although not for food this time. I washed before we left the Ranch, but Link drops enough hints for me to know that I ought to do so again before we reach the city.

Ferran and Percy- whom I haven't really spoken to since we landed- somehow managed to maintain a semi-clean outfit for me to wear into the castle. A clean white shirt of well-woven cotton, a well-cut vest of blue, dark brown trousers, and after a quarter of an hour bickering with them, a bit of polish added to my travel-stained boots. They try to insist on doing something to my hair but I won't have any of it after I finish scrubbing dirt and grime from my face. I let them make me change my clothing, but damnit I'm going to put off being prettied up by them for as long as damn well possible.

As we ride towards the large, walled city, I see movement in the battlements. We form a train three horses wide with Link and myself still riding abreast. From the corner of my eye I note Ferran's willowy form swaying atop his mount off to my left and behind. I allow myself only the briefest glance behind me to note that Link's squire is directly behind us with the Mayor off on Link's right and also back a bit. As well, I hadn't noticed it before but now one of the guards in the middle of the train has a flag pole up with the ancient pennant of Labyrnna, which has been altered slightly. A ring of three symbols for the Past, Present and Future is white on a dark blue background, and in the center of the ring is a thick pillar to represent Ambi's tower back home, it's in gold.

"Don't show fear." Link mumbles to me without turning his head, "They feed off it."

I would kick him, I almost do, at least until I begin to hear a sound that's probably more terrifying than the dying shrieks of the undead cattle last night. It starts out low as hoofs strike the hollow wood of the bridges which lead into the walled city. The massive gates before us slowly pull open and allow the sound to grow ever louder as we approach.

It's the sound of the people who've gathered in the streets of Castle Town to greet us. And I hate it so damn much I just want to meld into my horse's shadow and never find myself clawed out into the limelight ever again. There are chants and cheers that I can't quite hear ringing all around me, like mighty bells droning on in the background.

But no, those bells aren't a metaphor; there actually are bells tolling in some unseen sector of the inner city. I can feel my insides vibrating in a way to make me feel ill as people are singing everything from jaunty tavern songs to deeply spiritual hymns. I can see people dancing on rooftops and find myself showered in flower petals along with my men. I'm amazed that the street which we travel down is clear, until I see the shine of armor-clad guards keeping the crowds from spilling into our path.

"Please tell me some of this is for you…" I lean towards Epona and Link as I mumble the statement at first, only to have him obviously ask me to repeat myself. We go through this about three times with my voice growing steadily louder until I find myself shouting the comment in his pointed ear.

I gain some satisfaction as he doesn't take that well and jerks his head away, tentatively touching his ear before giving that damned goofy grin again. I half expected the crowd to go silent at the very moment I shouted, just to make me feel even more alienated, but they keep on shouting singing and cheering. And Link just shakes his head at me, clearly answering no to my question. My heart sinks.

I've never before understood all the pomp and fuss around nobles and royalty. It was one of the few things my Grandmother was never able to explain to me in all the months I lived in her court. Overly decorated homes and persons running around performing tasks for you that you can damn well do on your own, ceremonies which really don't have any purpose such as seating orders at dinner, it doesn't make sense. She couldn't explain it, and would just settle for saying, _'It is a burden and a blessing of our office.'_ Whatever that means…

I think I only ever got one half-assed answer the entire time I was there, and it came from one of her Stewarts. He used the sort of plain language I like, although I think he only did so because I'd been annoying him for the past three hours about useless, trivial things and was lucky he didn't try to hit me with that book he liked to cart around with him. He said something along the lines of;

'_People like to raise someone who isn't much better than they are on a pedestal and make them dance. Yes. Kings and Queens and Lords do a service to the state what with keeping it a state and directing matters which the populace can't all be made aware of and to think about such as quotas on pottery. But that's it. Her majesty sits on her throne and rules her country, all the,_ 'pomp and fuss' _as you put it is simply to please the people.'_

But, that's still half-assed. I can understand the pedestal metaphor, but not so much the dancing. And I don't see how walking down a dirty city street robbed in silk and gems is supposed to please the people living in that dirt to begin with…

Can I really be blamed for my dislike of crowds gathering just to shout at me? It can only take a few wrong decisions atop one of those thrones to change flower petals into rotten fruit… Besides that, I happened to have had the title of _'Brooding tough guy'_ while growing up on the outskirts of Lynna city. Brooding tough guys dislike having huge amounts of needless fuss made about them when they ride into town…

This current ride is lasting an uncomfortably long time, a quarter of an hour if not more as we move up the meandering main streets of Castle Town until we reach the inner city, which is probably part of the reason why the Capital has it's name to begin with.

Castle Town square is actually a circle, thus it defeats the point of calling it a square right there. Rimmed in pillared buildings which I can hardly see through the storm of pink, white, orange and red petals, a massive fountain sits in the middle with the Hylian royal crest acting as the center piece. The masonry from what I can see is perhaps even more painstakingly done than the old walkways of Ambi Castle centuries ago. Although obviously the square's seen a lot more feet, so if some of the patterns in the bricks are wearing away, I won't fault the mason…

Swirls of dark blue stone weave through the white of the buildings and cobbles, bright banners announcing the names of inns and cafes are probably even more elaborate than my own crest… I'm starting to understand where all the rumors about Hyrule come from; even the buildings in the outer city were a good deal larger than most to be found in Lynna…

"This wasn't all really put together in a week, was it?" I ask, shouting into Link's ear again but this time I'm not interested in causing him discomfort, so I don't put my head quite so close to his. I ask this as we pass through the latter half of the center… circle… of castle town approaching another set of gates, behind which the castle towers ominously. Weaving through the crowd around us I can see tumblers, jugglers, contortionists and other revelers entertaining knots of people as the shimmer of green, blue, yellow and red gems signals rupee's trading hands. Hell, I even see game booths open under the broad arches of aqueducts. There's a minstrel in every corner of the… well, not corner… every sector of the circle, strumming along to their own tune but clearly can't be heard over the noise of the crowd more than three feet away from them. It's a regular carnival day…

"I wouldn't think so," Link replies, having to yell to be heard over the din around us. I notice now that if I don't keep my hands firmly on the reins, my mount starts dancing off to the side slightly. Link also has a very firm grip on Epona's reins, and that horse's been through hell and back… "There are always entertainers in the city though, they've probably all just come together now as a business tactic. Location and all that… you okay?" I feel sick.

"Some of those boys I brought with me haven't been riding more than a few months." I say hurriedly, having to repeat myself over the roar and cheering of the lively crowd to be heard by him as I bend down to stroke my mount's neck reassuringly, not wanting her to panic. That would be the downright last thing I'd need; a citizen of Castle Town trampled to death by a skittish Labrynnian horse…

I twist around in my saddle and feel myself go cold as all I see are the swimming faces of the populace right behind me, instead of my merry band of rabble. I scan the top of the crowd as my horse dances back and forth a few steps, jolting a few people away from me as the guards holding back the crowds obviously can't do anything in a wide area like this. When I spot the banner again, it's still all the way back at the entrance to the square. The crowd must've gotten in the way.

"Damnit, I should've kept them around me instead!" I shout, finding myself suddenly not sure what the hell I'm doing anymore. I want to wheel around, find them, and then proceed ahead to somewhere the crowd can't follow, but on the other hand I want to just get the hell away from the crowd now and let them push themselves through on their own…

Which… would likely result in a lot of missing names, probably a few trampled revelers, and way too much of a headache for me to deal with on my first day here.

"Damnit, damnit… Link!" I swing one leg over the saddle, and stand on one of the stirrups mid-way through dismounting. It's easier to calm a skittish animal if they can see you, and I see Link nod in my direction before likewise dropping off of Epona.

"C'mon, I need to get you in the gates first," He says, gesturing for me to go towards the castle with him. It's funny really, once we get off our horses, the crowd seems to forget we're even there, which is a blessed relief as I unexpectedly get an elbow in the back and am thrust up against my mount by an enthusiastic dancer. "Just stand right within them until I come back with the boys." As Link finishes explaining, I frown and shake my head.

"My men, my problem." I say, taking my horses reins in one hand as I slowly rub her long face to try and calm her, her long ears are still flickering and twitching madly though. "You take these two up to the gates, the fewer horses, the better and you know it." Link opens his mouth to argue, but I just shove the reins into his hands, turn away and start walking back the way we came. The banner's beginning to bob drunkenly over the crowd, and I'm just waiting to hear the sharp, panicked whine of a horse before hooves fly into the air and men go down with bloodied faces.

I try to just wait for spaces to open up before I move ahead, but after a few moments of not going anywhere, I give up and just start elbowing people out of the way. It's choking, the number of shouting, twirling, singing, and apparently _drinking_ people who can force themselves into the smallest possible knots and make moving anywhere impossible. And then things go very, very wrong…

All it takes is one mistake to unseat a king, to crumble a country, to end a life… to piss off a drunken reveler… Thankfully I've avoided having to endure any of the first three, but alas, the fourth…

I elbowed the arm of a man who was much to large for me to be elbowing… apparently this knocked a rather large goblet of something that wasn't juice, milk, or water onto the ground and splash all across some fancy woman's dress who was clinging to the arm of some young suitor. The next thing which comes to mind would be my ant's view of the square with a throbbing pain just above my right temple and the very real smell of wine, badly aged. Thankfully, I'm able to avoid being trampled by the rest of the people around me and pick myself up to my feet, bolting into the crowd as I hear shouts that certainly aren't happy begin flying through the air.

I can assume that the young suitor decided to let the wrong head decide his fate and took a swing at the big guy. This most likely led to yet another spilt drink, more curses, and a lot of problems… What's more, as I find myself spinning through the crowd, my drunken little banner has fallen. And I don't really know it until my face is almost re-acquainted with the pavement and I look down to see a golden rendition of Ambi's tower smiling up at me. And then I hear a horse…

"Oh, Hell…"

I don't know if I'll ever want to remember what the hell happened after someone said those two fateful words. It might've been me, it might've been the kid sitting on the steps of one of the café's, hell it could've been a bird for all I know. The only thing that's for certain is that the next instant there's an ear-splitting and very animal-ish shriek, and there are hooves in the air.

In general, it makes everyone much easier for me to find, as I'm running through the crowd which is thankfully rushing away from my destination and the panicked shrieks of a few very tired and understandably jittery horses.

"Cover their eyes!" I hear someone shout as instead of rushing, the world sort of slows, like I'm walking instead of charging blindly through a panicked crowd that's on the brink of rioting. "Cover their eyes, damnit! They're panicked just as bad as you are! Cover their eyes like hawks! Block out the colors, talk into their ears. Don't shout, Dandale! Sooth the animal! Don't make her panic more!"

Seven panicking, bucking horses with eight panicked riders both seated and unseated makes for a very regal entrance to Castle town. The only thing keeping the pack animals from doing the same is the fact that they're probably bone-tired from the weight they've been hauling. To be honest though, I almost scream myself as that eerily commanding voice comes back to me as my own. When in the blackest pits of hell did _**I**_start talking!?

Actually, even though my mind connects with the fact that I'm speaking, I can't do a damned thing to still my own tongue as I finally break free of the swiftly fleeing crowd. And I was walking actually, I stopped running and just started walking and I sure as hell don't know when or why. All I know is that what I can catch of my own orders kind of makes sense, in fact, I even see two or three of my men doing as I say with the help of some of the not-so-drunken revelers to calm the mounts.

I almost relax, things are nearly under control, and then fate gives me a sucker-punch right in the mouth. My life flashes before me in an incomprehensible blur as I suddenly I find myself staring straight into a pair of white eyes as one of the panicked animals bolts forwards. Now time really does slow, and with me stuck firmly in with it. The square is emptying, but not fast enough to provide the space needed to calm a raging horse. There was another man who was trying to help that horse, but he must've done or said something to set the creature off as I numbly watch someone clad in bells and ribbons tumble under the beast as it charges blindly. Dead straight for me.

"_**Majesty!!"**_

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"_Horses, riot, guards, __**go!**_" I shout, giving Epona a firm smack on her flanks to send the already agitated mount off at a breakneck speed towards the castle. I only half-catch the sound of my squire giving a near-terrified shriek atop the mount as Epona is a far cry from the smaller animal he normally rides. Standing just within the gates leading towards the castle, I have his horse and Ralph's with me and swiftly knot their reins onto the fence before I rush back into the throngs of people. The two guards who normally watch the gate kept it closed until I hurried forwards with the horses, they're no lost somewhere in the crowd likely trying vainly to help.

"Ralph!" Shoving my way through the crowd, each time I look around a fist tries to come at me from the opposite direction. I can't tell where it started or between whom, but with so many people crowding the streets a real riot is breaking out all around me. And I still have to find the men. In the midst of this shoving though, I hear the sound Ralph was afraid of and at last the packed square begins to cooperate with me. The people want away from the horses and I don't blame them, I can hear Ralph's voice growing over the crowd but I don't know how that's really possible.

In an instant the entire square seems to open up for me, and I feel a flash of panic as I see Ralph's red head suddenly hit the paved ground in the wake of a mad horse. Screams fill the air as the horse continues straight on past Ralph and into one of the makeshift stalls set up in the middle of the road between the fountain and outer shops. By all accounts I should be rushing over to Ralph, but instead I find myself going after the animal instead. It isn't impossible to keep it within sights, as it kicks its front legs up in a terrified manner after hitting the stall and hearing the screams of the people all around it.

I move around quickly trying to figure out if I can either grabs the reins whipping around in front of it, or if I should try jumping onto the saddle. I want to avoid killing it, end of story, but if I can't think of something and pull it off before someone else is trampled…

"Move it, Fairy Boy!" I blink in shock as Ralph's voice rings out again although it's difficult to hear over the panic around me. The next thing I know the horse gives another shriek before flash of red and blue in the saddle forms Ralph fisting his hands into the animal's mane trying to keep it from bolting again.

I don't ask questions although I could've sworn I saw him drop as the horse came by, and instead weave through the last panicked citizens who stand between myself and the stall. I reach out and nearly receive one iron-shod hoof in my skull for my troubles before my hands fumble with and finally grip the reins and I pull down on them hard. I find myself staring into the animal's white, panicked eyes one moment, and then nearly hoisted into the air the next as it tries both to throw Ralph off its back and me from its reins.

"Aim, **fire!**" A sharp crack cuts through the noise of the retreating crowd, followed by the hiss and thud of a crossbow bolt finding a mark. I blink and drop the reins from my hands in a start as blood splatters across my face, numbly taking a step back and staring at the black metal bolt protruding from one of the horse's eyes. The animal seems as stunned as I am as life drains from its limbs and it tumbles over onto its side.

I finally see what it was Ralph did to escape being trampled to death; at the last instant he brings one foot from it's stirrup and up onto the saddle. Then before his leg can be crushed, he pushes off, tucking his head and shoulder in to roll once along the ground, clearing himself of danger and ending in a crouch. I didn't even see him duck when he outmaneuvered the horse, and wasn't watching to see him get up when the guards whose horses were calm enough had rushed down to his aid.

"Secure the area, break up any brawls you see in the streets and keep the rabble clear of the Prince and his Escort." I turn towards the voice and see a large man saddled atop an equally large horse. His Majesty's general, Sir Ladekhan is clothed in the white and red tunic of one of the King's higher officials, as well as gold and silver ropes coiled around his shoulders with a few badges of office pinned to his breast. His hands hold the reins loosely, and are still deft even while covered in an assortment of rings which also scream his position.

Sir Ladekhan is a large man, but will never fall into the category of _'Rolly Polly'_. He's about as close to a Goron's build and strength as any human can ever hope to achieve. So it's a good thing he has a level head like his Majesty, as well as a fair sense of humor. The thinning hair atop his squashed head is shining slightly in the sunlight as I can assume that the nobility at the castle have all been standing around in their best attire for quite some time…

"My Prince, your head…" I glance back towards Ralph to see a breathless Ferran wringing his hands together nervously as I note my friend's face being a bit more red than it ought to be. A nasty gash has opened up along his forehead and he touches the blood experimentally, apparently surprised to see the crimson.

"Shameful." I glance up at Ladekhan as he lets himself down off of his stunted mount, shaking his head, "To think that such a mockery of our kingdom would take place within the capital itself. A riot and injury to a foreign lord, how humiliating."

"Don't touch me! I said I'm fine, it's just a scratch!" I look between Ladekahn and Ralph as I watch my friend snatch a white kerchief from one of his men and begin dabbing at his head with it, although he really just ends up making more of a mess for himself until one of the soldiers offers him a water skin. There are Hylian soldiers at every entrance and exit to the square now keeping the revelers away, and to be honest they make their Labyrnnian counterparts look… shabby. Form fitting armor and glittering chain tunics, compared to the humbly made and worn thin plate and leather suits of Ralph's escort. Then again, our men are dressed for show today.

"M'lord." I glance down and find one of the Squires, I think this one is Sir Ladekhan's, offering me a similar towel to the one Ralph is using. I blink slightly before reaching up and roughly feeling along my forehead for a mark. I discover my cap's long gone before I find a rather tender area along the side of my head, my hair matted down with something too thick to be sweat before I accept the cloth.

"Well, Sir, things could still have been worse. The Prince was already trying to prevent the horses from panicking before the thought had even crossed my mind… Who made that shot?" The older man's face is grim as he continues to scan the square as though the Dark Lord himself were about to jump out of the fountain and slaughter everyone. But as I ask about the shot his wide face breaks into a good-humored grin. He laughs loudly before clapping the shoulder of the Squire, who goes red in the face from the wordless praise. I nod appreciatively, although I still would of preferred it if we could have saved the horse. There isn't anything to be done about it now though, a group of soldiers is already working with commandeered canvas from one of the shops to cover the carcass.

"Where's my squire? I'll assume he managed to reach the castle..?" I ask and do so quickly as I know that soon enough we'll be headed up to the castle and likely into a courtyard of unhappy nobles…

"Ah, your horse gave the boy the ride of his life it seems, she came screaming to a halt in the courtyard right before his Majesty and flung the boy head-over-heels to the ground. The fall sent him in circles I'm afraid, it had him babbling word of the chaos down here until I was out the gates." I wince slightly at how unpleasant that must have been for Timothy. Although I like to think I'm good to Epona, even I've done stupid things to send her flying madly across the countryside with myself clinging to the saddle. Not fun.

"Majesty," I watch as Ladekhan strides past me and towards Ralph who now has a few rough bandages wound around his head. The bleeding's probably stopped by now and most of the blood from his face has been washed away as he turns towards the General, who then clasps one gauntleted hand over his heart and gives a straight bow of respect. Surprisingly enough, Ralph doesn't bristle at the gesture.

"I am Sir Ladekhan, General of His Majesty's armies." He says with a bit of courtly flourish along with the gruff undertones of a professional soldier. "I offer my deepest regrets that my men were unable to maintain the peace in your presence. They are unfamiliar with such conditions within the Royal City." Ralph's response doesn't really surprise me. His manner, however, does.

"Sir Ladekhan, I would greatly prefer if you were to not make a spectacle of yourself on our behalf." His tone holds a bit of the sharpness which just makes him who he is, but I blink as I notice a very familiar, velvety feel to his words. Now, it isn't as polished as most of the courtiers' language, but it's a damn change from the Ralph I know. Unfortunately, as I try picking out how so much more… princely, he sounds, I end up missing whatever came next and only catch the very end.

"…If you would indulge us, General, my men and I are weary from our journey, and a slight shaken after our exciting arrival. I would be grateful if you would escort us to His Majesty the king so that I may at last meet the ruler of this beautiful, if unpredictable, land."

* * *

**I had a section with Timothy in this chapter, but in the end it didn't really have much to it, so I cut it out to keep the chapter moving.**

**Next chapter~!**


	6. Chapter 6

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* * *

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 6

After so many years since I briefly met with the new Prince of Labyrnna, I have to say that I'm both surprised and not as I resume my position at my father's side before the massive doors of the castle. The trill voices of the trumpets continue to echo within the stone walls of the courtyard as the late afternoon sun is waning towards the west. Summer is not yet fully upon us and yet I feel unpleasant moisture along my back, neck, and brow.

"Ah, there they are…" My father says in a low voice, and I place one gloved hand on his arm as he gives a slight grunt to stand up. A servant swiftly snatches the stool out from under my father and takes it away as he stands, settling himself solidly as another attendant hands him his ivory cane. He has no physical need for the ornament, but it is decorated with gold, and the head is a sapphire with the symbol of the Triforce spinning within its depths. The cane has passed from monarch to monarch for centuries, but the enchantment is my father's own.

He confided in me once that the spell wasn't as difficult as finding a gem large enough and still unflawed to cast it on.

Looking out across the courtyard I can clearly see the train of horsemen making their way up the slope, although a number of them seem to be walking instead of riding. The banner being held over their heads bears the crest of Labrynna, but not necessarily the Ambi family as I've seen it in texts.

As the group properly arrives within the castle and the gates begin to swing shut, another loud trumpet cry acts as a welcome for them. And it gives me a moment to scan the party. The guards are clearly skittish and their horses looking bone-weary after their journey. Sir Ladekhan dismounts and I briefly catch sight of a green-swathed figure moving about behind the soldiers. Ah, of course, Epona charged up into the courtyard, and Link isn't the type to take someone else's horse.

The other men also dismount, but when one in clothing which seems a bit finer than the rest steps forwards, I can easily assume he is Ralph. Quite a sight he is as well, brown soldier's bandages looping his forehead and looking a bit bloodied, his cloths scuffed with dirt and his hair hanging around his face in a mess. His mouth is a stern line, but his eyes dart about the courtyard too much, and thus show his discomfort with so many eyes on him as he strides towards the beginnings of the castle steps. The bow he gives my father and it is a sketchy one, and not done quiet right.

"Welcome, Cousin." My father says in a tone of open pleasantness. He inclines his head and shoulders as much as his age and position will allow while keeping both hands folded over the head of the cane placed in front of him. I also nod in welcome as I won't be required to do much else to simply welcome him. "Your arrival, I'm afraid, was on such short notice that you must forgive our fair city for your ill greeting. You have our apologies." There is the slightest, only the barest ripple of whispers and ruffled feathers which echoes around the courtyard before the stillness reaffirms itself. What would they expect though, really? The chaos which made a mockery of Castle Town can't simply go unaddressed…

"No, no, Majesty please. No apologies are necessary." The Prince straightened from his knee once my father was well into his speech, and now the flaws in his presentation can be easily pointed out. His feet shuffle, marginally, one of his hands unconsciously clutching and them smoothing out one side of his blue vest. "The people of your city were doing their best to welcome us in their own way, a simple misunderstanding which bred less than pleasant results. I myself would apologize for the misconduct of my men and I, we were slow to respond to the situation."

As he speaks, he gestures too much with his hands, too many useless movements. To add on to the vastly increasing list of flaws, he's attempting to speak eloquently, but it's clear that he's struggling with it. His tone is inconsistent with no flow or pattern to the words. And he's rambling on, unable to build up to some sort of climax but instead scattering a number of points. It's only when I take a step back and recall the brash young man from Labrynna, and am reminded that his rise to power within the country has happened in only a few years, that I can commend him for his performance.

"Tonight, Cousin, a banquet has been prepared in honour of your arrival." My father announces, although most everyone was aware of this already. As he speaks his focus changes from simply the Prince to address the entire assembly. "Let there be no talk of business today. No treaties, trades, taxes or tribulations to be brought before the attention of the state. Each man is master of his own time until the bells ring. Cousin."

Although we have no family ties to Labrynna, it is a tradition of course, a formality, for my father to refer to the Prince as our cousin. I suppose it may be similar to how the Gorons of the mountains always refer to one another and those they speak with as Brother, but none of that is overly important at the moment.

As Ralph climbs the steps towards us the courtyard begins to buzz with action. It's quiet at first of course, the rustling of skirts whispering through the air as courtiers vanish into the various doors of the castle. Men dismount and grooms appear at each animal. Liveried servants also make their way through the din to begin the process of unloading animals and relieving both horses and men of baggage. I can only assume that the squires currently fostering within the castle will be the ones to attend to the Prince's men. That one green figure seems missing though.

"I thank you, Majesty, for keeping with my wishes." I hear at my side, glancing away from the goings on of the courtyard to catch the Prince finishing a slight bob of his head towards my father, who gives a low chuckle and strokes his beard in an amused way. The three of us turn towards the wide, open doors and begin to walk as one inside as my father's reply is light hearted, if fairly soft.

"No thanks are needed, Cousin. Although it does seem my one knight was not adequate for you." I frown slightly but not in a disapproving manner. The courtyard was a flurry of skirts, fans, and armored guards after a single war horse charged blindly into the midst of everyone. I can only hope that no one down within the city was badly injured. The Prince's ears burn.

"Bah, no more talk of that." My father dismisses his own topic with a wave of his hand before looking past me to his left as we've made our way past the grand foray and into the normal halls of the castle. "I believe someone is awaiting your attention, daughter."

"Majesty," Impa glides forwards in an outfit that's so unlike her that I stifle a giggle. Swathed in floating blue robes with her white hair hidden under a white and blue headdress, my nursemaid offers the three of us a single low bow before turning her thin, tanned face towards me. "He woke up just a moment ago; you said you wanted to be kept informed." This she says only to me, and I nod slightly.

"Already awake? Well, that's good to hear. I assume you wish to check on him, daughter?" I nod again towards my father and offer a slight curtsy to both him and the Prince before smiling.

"It is good to see you again, cousin. If you'll excuse me, I'll see you this evening." I say using the formality of cousin without thinking, and noting only a moment too late how the Prince seems to shift his weight around whenever he hears it. Smiling apologetically, I turn and begin to follow Impa.

We walk in silence down the halls for a moment or two, turning at seemingly random intervals before the décor begins to change. The red rugs which trail down the middle of the stone corridors come to an end, the paintings and occasional pieces of art already long gone from the walls. Tapestries which are thinning or fading the only things which adorn the walls along with more ratty curtains on the verge of being thrown out or falling to clumps of thread. In other words; the servant's wing.

"I take it his lord is there?" I ask, although the answer seems obvious to me as Impa merely smiles.

"But of course, I believe his father might've wanted to see him as well, but he wasn't there when I left." I smile slightly as Impa runs one finger along her cheek, the headdress clearly irritating her as we finally stop and begin stepping through doors and she now actually needs to lead me. I won't be arrogant, I've rarely ever come down this far, less still into the private chambers of those who truly run the castle.

We enter a dimly lit corridor which is cramped and lined with doors, squire dorms, one door down the hall is ajar with a thin sliver of candle light shining out towards us. Stepping inside, the room is no less cramped than the hall outside, a small worn desk is in one corner with three small candle stubs all burning away to provide light, and a fairly solid three legged stool next to the most likely lumpy cot is at the bedside. Both cot and stool are occupied.

"P-P-Princess!" I smile as Link's young Squire stares at Impa and I with wide eyes before reaching for the blankets which cover him where he's sitting up in bed. He's still dressed in his green tunic and smeared with dirt from his days of travel and more recent visit with the courtyard's tiled expanse. His nose is stuffed with cotton so his words are thick, the blood from the fractured ridge cleaned away as much as can be expected as there are also layers of gauze wrapped across his face to keep him from moving it to much.

I don't need to do anything to still him as Link places a hand on the boy's shoulder, and another on the bedding to keep the squire from leaping up and performing a bow.

"Stay." He says simply, earning a pleading look from the squire as his ears begin to go red even in the already rosy light. Smirking, I watch as Link, travel stained, sweaty and bruised stands up and turns towards me with a semi-elegant bow. I look at him quizzingly as the moment he finishes bowing, he does so again.

"There, happy? I bowed for us both." His squire is completely silent and I step forwards to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Does your arm pain you?" I ask, looking to where his right arm is in a sling, and bound repeatedly in thick bandages. The sleeve of his tunic and shirt underneath are both missing. When he was sent flying from Epona he landed face first and on his arm, effectively breaking both nose and bone.

The burning red of the boys ears visibly begins to crawl down and spread across his cheeks and I find myself chuckling sheepishly at his strange reaction before he finally mumbles something and gives the barest nod. I make to scoot further up on the bed before Link motions for me to simply take his vacated seat.

"I'm not expected anywhere until this evening, right?" Link asks behind me as I hold out my gloved hands to see his Squire's arm. I can't see it under all the bandages, but he tenses slightly at my touch, so I know the area's tender. Link and Impa simply converse behind me, and I hear him ask one or two questions about anything he may have missed on his week away.

Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths and clear my mind of any distractions. Calm penetrates my thoughts and feelings as I can sense the air cooling around me while my hands grow warm. That warmth remains centered around my hands before seeping out into the air and the layers of gauze under my touch. After a few moments of this steady focus, I finally release the boy's arm and open my eyes, smiling to see his surprised face as I sit back on the stool.

"It's a clean break," I say, hearing boots scuff the floor behind me before Link leans down and looks over my shoulder at the boy frowning slightly.

"What? Can't fix it, Princess?" He asks in a whiny voice, although I know it's all for show, I simply find myself resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him before looking back to his squire.

"Your arm will be fine soon enough," I explain with a nod, before looking back towards my father's knight. "And no, I can't suddenly mend bone. Besides, I've helped it; it will heal in half the time a normal break would take." I stand and begin to smooth my skirts in front of me before turning back to Link and beginning to number off points.

"So, for the next moon or so, no riding lessons, sword practices, horse saddling, extensive chores, long writing sessions, hunting trips or camping excursions. Do you understand?" Link merely pouts for a moment before the two of us share a smile. He gives me yet another bow, this one simply to mock formality however as he gestures widely towards the door.

"Well then, now that I have my orders from her Royal Highness, I shall depart and give my horse a much needed apology, and scrub a few layers of grime from my back before dinner. I know the pain of injuries, but am still lacking in how to properly treat them past a patch-job." After rising from his bow and still speaking, Link offers a wave to his squire and a nod to Impa before vanishing out into the hall.

I turn back to the boy and give him a sympathetic look as at some point Impa left and returned with fresh gauze and a small container of white paste, which she set atop the desk within easy reach.

"I'm afraid this will not be very enjoyable for you," I admit, looking to Impa as she pulls a small vial of medicine from one of her hidden pockets and hands it to the boy.

"Here, drink this to numb the pain." She instructs as step side and nod to her with a smile before making my way towards the door, pausing momentarily to look back and see the unpleasant look spread across his face as the bitter draught hits his tongue before he hands the vial back. "I'm going to remove those bandages and put on a proper cast, alright?" He offers a wordless nod to her, and I slip out, able to avoid further stutters or stares from him as I retrace my steps out of the corridor and into the hall of the Servant's Wing once more.

To be honest, I was half-expecting Link to be standing out here waiting for me and offering a random walk through the gardens or the castle itself as he normally does. Although, considering I'm sure I saw blood across the side of his head, I'm fairly sure that he'd be a fool to forgo a bath just to be social.

For myself, the thought of a bath is also an appealing one. No, I do not have days of dirt and sweat clinging to me, but I've been standing in layers of petticoats, silks and sashes for hours in the sun. I'm still able to feel an unpleasant stickiness along my forehead and back as I make my way back to the better decorated sections of the palace.

A bath and perhaps a bit of reading in my chambers before I have to begin preparing for tonight's banquet; yes, that sounds good… a simple yet fulfilling plan.

* * *

Outrageous. Preposterous. Simply… simply inconceivable! I am, for the first time in so long I cannot care to recall a previous date, completely flustered, and make no motion to attempt to wipe my face of the feeling.

How completely and undeniably _**mortifying!!**_

"Is his Majesty within his chambers?" I demand, coming to a swift halt before the doors to his Majesty's antechamber and staring boldly into the eyes of his red-clad guards with their polished helms and elegant halberds.

"Aye, M'lor—" The first one opens his mouth to reply, but the language he uses is intolerable and I simply cannot keep the sharp words silent.

"Do not mock me with common slang, it is _'My Lord'_, not, _'M'lord'_ as street rabble call it. Are you street rabble, man? Well? Answer me!" I've clearly startled him, caught him off guard, and finally he simply shakes his head dumbly before his partner can attempt to salvage the situation.

"Yes, Lord Salvin. His Highness is within his chambers. But he—" Enough. My question is answered and thus I simply stride between the both of them, they would not dare bar my way, for they know my position within the castle and at his Majesty's ear.

Beautifully aged dark wooden doors part under my touch as I stride boldly into the King's private chambers. I can feel my noble qualities radiating within me and accented by the polished black of my boots, a black velvet tunic of superior cut and quality is kept in place with a silver-buckled black belt, with a silver chain hanging around my neck and the weight of one long polished earring hardly registering to me.

"Majesty, I must protest!" I say forcefully, but maintaining the respectful tones one must always use in the presence of the mo—

No…

"Ah, Salvin… Eh, it is not so critical an error as what it may seem, the Prince is only just learning the rules after all."

I freeze, I feel stunned for a moment as though I had been slapped upon my entry into his Majesty's chambers. I expected to find his Highness alone at a window or with a book of some sort, the opportune time for me to enter and begin to speak of seemingly trivial things, while sowing seeds of something larger.

But this, this I did not expect, and feel the sudden need to lash out at the guards who are deathly silent in the doorway behind me.

His Majesty is sitting in front of a small table which has a board atop it with the various figures of King's Men scattered across it, and sitting across from him is the Pri—no, is the rabble who rode into our lands and city masquerading as a Prince, still clad in his peasant garb of vest, trousers and soiled boots. His unruly red hair is still in tangles about his surprised, naïve face and white bandages now adorn his forehead in replacement of the most likely moth-ridden rags he sported upon his arrival.

What sort of rabble is this, to call himself a prince? A prince does not ride in surrounded by his men, but proud and strong at the head of a preceding train. He does not dress as a common beggar but as one wreathed in the wealth of his state to proclaim its glory. Rabble; that is all this man and his party are. Pitiful rabble. A dozen men is what this _'Prince'_ brought with him, a sad, and insulting display of peasants and farm boys pretending at being Vanguard. I cannot fathom a greater insult to our Royal City in all its past.

And here I am, now, expecting the cold disapproval of a leader I truly do respect, whom I do not deem a fool for he has taken far to many of my suggestions and dismissed them at the times most opportune for himself. Here I find him indulging this peasant as though he truly were a royal cousin.

The Rabble- he is not a prince, I refuse to view him as such- was half out of his seat when I walked in, but now settles back down in an uncomfortable manner. Oh, that only just allows me to scrape up a few shards of amusement out of this disastrous ordeal. This boy feels his place when he is surrounded by the finery of our Palace, he squirmed under the gaze of the courtiers outside in the sun, his voice faltered and his words were weak. He is no prince.

Briefly, although I don't know why, my eyes roam the room and its rich furnishings of dark wood and deep crimson, glowing gold shining at random in tassels and gildings. The white ceramic of his Majesty's basin, for some absurd reason, catches my eye, or rather, the towels folded next to it, the ones stained with dirt and the faintest traces of red.

My eyes, instantly, are upon the Rabble's face, studying everything about his features as I fear I cannot keep the intensity from my gaze, and I know he sees it as his eyes meet and stare into mine boldly. First and foremost; his face is round. Perhaps not among the common filth of the streets and farmlands, but the lines of jaw and cheeks are undefined, his brow is too broad, his nose is small and pointed, his ears are rounded. This man does not have the profile of a Prince, and this only furthers my sense of insult at his very presence.

But what is more, what makes my blood begin to heat as I finally attempt to pry my eyes from his face, is the lack of his own crimson across his features. Even from where I stood off to the side when he arrived, I could see the stains of red from a wound badly cleaned. Yet now, mere feet away, those traces are gone, and those bandages are fresh.

He **dared** use _my_ King's basin, water, and towels to wash his own filthy mug!?

"…vin. Ahem. Salvin." I come back to myself and realize my critical error as my thoughts had become so tangled in themselves that I hardly heard my name being called, and I blink to bring myself back into focus and meet the King's gaze. His eyes hold a question, and, is that… the faintest edge of… disapproval?

"Salvin. Do you have business?" His Majesty's words are each emphasized to inform me that he is repeating himself, and I only just suppress the tingling sensation of my ears beginning to burn along the tips. That anger, that deep feeling of insult, of personal wrong, it is legitimate in my blood, but I force it down. Down, down, down, deep and away in the back of my heart and lock it there, allowing only the icy counterpart of that anger through to freeze my features in place perfectly.

Any foolish man, unskilled with words and their patterns would stumble and stutter at a time such as this. Here, caught in daze by an important figure who's support must be held at all times, and whom must look to me first among others, and made demands of. Most rabble would allow his mouth to open and close repeatedly without sound like a fish, drowning in air. But not I.

"Forgive me, Highness, I did not know you were busy at the moment." I reply with velvety smoothness, silently championing myself for my skill as I give a belated, but no less elegant bow towards the king. I make it appear as if the gesture encompasses both, but only a fool would truly believe such.

"In fact, in my surprise now I feel that I have forgotten what it was I wished to say, so my apologies again, Majesty." A second bow, not as low, "May I be excused? I feel the fool for my actions." A smile, a nod, and a farewell wave with a few words of the requested forgiveness and dismissal. I back out the doors and do not look at the guards as they pull them shut.

Without looking at anything, I simply storm down the corridors. My blood boils, my plans complicated, and my pride throbbing from a sore blow. Staving away from the more used halls, I take to smaller, less traveled ways. Walking, always moving, turning away from footsteps not my own, allowing the rhythm of my boots on rug and stone to sooth my tensions and allow my mind to work through the day's events.

I walk for a good, long while, and eventually find myself within my own chambers, surrounded by drapes of calming blue-green silk, sharp in contrast to the crimson staining my vision as I arrive, the room is accented by silver ornaments. There is still another hour or so before the banquet is set to begin in honor of the Rabble, and I must use this time to calm, compose, and order myself before appearing again before anything more than the quiet personal attendant I keep in my chambers at near all hours.

Malvo, that is his name. A peasant's name, for his mother was a peasant but his fathers have served my family loyally for too many years to count. I find myself lounging in a luxuriously plush chair of blue and silver-flecked velvet before long, and Malvo, with his drooping blue eyes and tightly curled gold locks, hands me a small crystal goblet of blue and white swirls. The wine within is chilled as I always prefer, and I pace myself with the pale vintage to allow myself a chance to think things through.

The Prince of Labyrnna… is not a prince at all. Nor is he a descendant of any notable blood. I cannot help but shudder at the thought of that mongrel claiming any sort of authority. It may seem foolish to rabble such as them, but I can tell simply by his ears that he is not nearly worthy of any such noble title.

The pointed ears of the Hylian people are the only physical indications of the mental, spiritual, and philosophical superiority of our people over those baser creatures who attempt to emulate us. The Hylians are peoples of the gods, melded in their image with humans as a secondary race of laborers and mindless rabble. Those in our sacred realm who do not bear this physical mark are not- or at the very least _should not_- be referred to as Hylains, for they are interlopers in our domain. I have heard talk of a different, if strikingly similar term being concocted for those who are not gifted by the Gods. Hyrulean.

This second name has not caught on, although it very well should, for it frays my nerves to hear trash in the streets claim to be members of our race. Those not of our race are fit for nothing more than the lives in the mud which most of them live through without complaint.

I mull over this sore spot of mine for a long while more, not watching my servant as Malvo sets out the appropriate outfit for me to wear this evening to the banquet. He refills my drink always at the perfect time, and as my mind drifts to other, more important points, he and I are on the same page as he removes the goblet from my hand the moment I feel inclined to halt my indulgence.

"Shall I ready a bath for you, My Lord?" I dismiss the notion with a wave of my hand, my properly obedient servant silencing himself with the perfect understanding that I do not wish it so. Striding towards one of the few long windows which light my chambers, I look out across the courtyard, beyond it to the fringes of Castle Town, and further still onto the grand plains. Slowly, a smile begins to tug at my lips, and I allow it to grow slightly. My thoughts no longer run wild but instead smoothly flow into one another, compiling plans and goals and steps to carry out and achieve both respectively.

Despite the horror of the Pauper Prince, perhaps I have been too swift too judge the situation. All may not be lost at all. In fact, things may work out all the better.

* * *

**You have three guesses as to what Salvin's favorite fabric is. And the first two don't count.**

**Also, there actually is a distinction in-game between a Hylian and a Hyrulean. Hylians are the ones with pointed ears and who're slightly more attuned to magics and nature. And a Hyrulean is anyone who lives in Hyrule.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow… I laugh at all the hate for Salvin 'cause I actually know how the story goes. **

**And, on that note, I'm actually going to try advancing the plotline. Partially because I'd like to avoid writing anything I consider too boring or hard for me to spend an abhorrent amount of time on. **

**

* * *

**

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 7 

To say that I don't feel bad on the inside for what happened to Timothy would be a complete and utter lie. I wish I could've gotten to his room faster than I did; I decided forgo a visit with a mistreated and clearly livid female to do so, but I was still slowed down by nearly every possible obstacle in the palace. First I accidentally ran into one of the stewards, which led to a long list of apparent duties which all require attention. Finally shaking the thin man off, I had to change course three times and take a long swerving route to avoid the tighter knots of noble women and one near encounter with the Lord Salvin… No, no thank you I'll pass on that any day.

Impa looks completely ridiculous! Head to toe in flowing robes, oh, Farore! I've only seen her in get up like that a few very strange times; normally she wears a tunic and trousers in place of the formal wear, but today! I could swear she was going to try putting me to the strap when I couldn't stifle a giggle at the sight of her. I'd thought her a miscellaneous maid or something when I saw her from behind, and to have her wheel around with an infuriated look in her dark eyes- I couldn't help it!

Needless to say, I was also surprised to see Zelda step into Timothy's quarters. Wrapped head to toe in flowing white and blue silk and glittering with sapphires and silver, all while standing in a musty basement. That large sapphire dangling from her circlet was like a third eye when she began to work at my squire's arm. Not her flashiest spell, Zelda's hands began to glow with a gold light which radiated through the boy's arm. It's always a sight to see her drawing on her powers, and I'll have to take the time to thank her for helping when I have the chance.

I pause in front of a door I can instantly tell as being Ralph's. Two of the Prince's travel-worn and rather traumatized guards are standing outside, each nodding to me and seeming rather uncomfortable with their posts as they shuffle away from the door slightly.

"Relax, you two." I say lightly, "Nothing to worry about, unlike the other ones, I don't bite. You can eat and collapse in a bed somewhere when I drag your lord downstairs to the hall." The two of them share a brief and somewhat hopeful glance between them, before one lets out a wide yawn, catching himself too late at it and smacking one gloved hand over the gap. I can't help but snicker a bit as I move past and step into Ralph's chambers.

Not bad. Pale wood tables, shelves, and mantels sparsely fill the room, finely crafted and solid, but simple in design. Navy blue is parceled about in upholstery, curtains, and rugs, a few tapestries covering bare walls showing maps and designs which don't seem very Hylian. Probably something near-ancient that was dredged up from a time when Hyrule and Labrynna were still in close contact with one another.

To find the Prince, I merely follow the sounds of dull thuds, muffled yells, and one or two sharp yelps. Opening the door which separates the antechamber and sleeping quarters, I take a peek inside.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It seems I'm mistaken. I was looking for the Prince Raphael…" I say humbly, only to be cut off by an enraged glare.

"Who the hell're you?" Ralph says bitterly, tugging with one hand as the collar of his shirt seems to be strangling him. Barefoot, he's got a short chain hanging from one ear which holds a sparkling piece of amber. He's half shaved, and his hair is flopped across his face in a way which makes it look more tangled than I've ever seen before. Finally, the bandages which were being re-wrapped around his head are for the most part tangled around his neck. Clearly the Prince has forgotten how to get dressed.

"Ferran, Percy, you guys go get yourselves ready for the banquet." I say, spotting the reason for Ralph's wretched mood and odd state of half-dress in the form of the two semi-clueless vassals. I can't decide whether Percy fainted again, or was knocked out by Ralph or just tripping over something, Ferran is bent over the mayor looking at him sympathetically. Rising, he nods to me and gives me a bow, and I can see that the man is wet all across his front. Honestly, don't they think Ralph can do _anything?_

Ferran ends up enlisting the help of the guards outside to drag and carry Percy away. And I watch them go with a forlorn look.

"Thank you." Turning, I find that Ralph's vanished, a length of tangled gauze tossed onto the foot of his bed, but I follow the sound of splashing water to find the small tiled bathroom that's attached to his room. Sighing, I leave him to continue shaving, hearing the small clatter of metal on porcelain which signifies his remembering the foolishness of jewelry before washing.

"So, should I be starting a pot for how long it takes you to murder the both of them?" I call jokingly, dropping into one of the chairs next to the bed and begin toying with the cuffs of my sleeves. I'm wearing one of those absurdly puffy white shirts under the sane green of my tunic, although this one is a bit more fancy. Sleeveless, but still going down nearly to the knee, I could almost picture Timothy squirming in his bed should I not try and appease the boy's impregnable sense of proper fashion. A black belt keeps me from looking like a square, and although I hate these sleeves I chose the puffy shirt anyways.

"You haven't answered me yet." Ralph calls, emerging from the bathroom with a towel drying off his face. That cut I gave him when he landed is still visible, but is little more than a thin pink line, and the wound on his head from the horse was small, so he doesn't seem intent on bandaging it again. The laces of his shirt are undone now, and he goes about tying them properly before walking up to me, keeping the game going.

"You sound like the Fairy Boy, you act like the Fairy Boy, hell, you even have his hat." I should've clued in when he looked to my cap, but I didn't so end up trying to snatch the garment back from him as Ralph swipes it off my head and jumps back snickering.

"Well, perhaps I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. For now." He says, sticking the cap on his head and making a clown face with his fingers stretching his mouth.

"Now, don't forget you've got that on your head when you leave. Wouldn't _**that **_start a rumor or two." I stick my tongue out between my teeth in a grin as Ralph's face visibly shrivels up and I catch my cap as it comes flying towards me.

"I certainly hope you aren't here to give me fashion advice." He says sourly, walking over to the mirror which stands in one corner, and picking up a tunic of his own. Dark Labyrnnian blue is pulled over his flaming red head, and he belts it with a thin bit of leather just a shade darker than his hair.

"Well, not exactly. Although I did think you'd want to go over a few things before your début." I amuse myself with looking over the stitching in my cap, I'm not going to be wearing it tonight though, I sort of want to, but I can go without it for one evening. Ralph drops into the chair next to mine looking dead tired and more than a little miserable as I give my report on the castle. It's amusing, I often notice servants running around to do this sort of thing for the lords and ladies within the palace, but now instead of receiving a message myself, I'm the one doing the running around!

"The Zora and Goron Ambassadors are here, but not the leaders since this is such short notice, so you're safe in that respect." A relieved look. "If you still go green around shell fish then stave off the soup since it'll be full of them tonight." A grimace. "And I'd advise against both indulgence in wine and dancing as well." Confusion. It's fun to watch the emotions and reactions play so openly across Ralph's face.

"Every young pretty thing over the age of fifteen- not that there's a horrifying amount of them- is hoping to make herself a Princess by the time you leave. A clear head and sound steps would both be good ideas until you get a feel for this." Ralph splutters, and the splash of crimson which washes up his face makes me choke on laughter.

"What!? I'm not looking for a wife! Never a Hylian wife either! Hell, take a girl from a castle like this and sit her in Labrynna? I'd hang myself after the third day from all the whining and whimpering over wanting servants to chop wood for her!" Forget choking, I laugh outright as his reaction, slapping my knee and trying to get over the look on his face. He's beet read from top to bottom, completely flustered and not doing well to regain his composure. When I get back a bit more of my own I clap on hand on his shoulder.

"Ah, my Naïve Prince! Every eligible young lady is expecting you to take a wife. Doesn't mean you have to- since I'm fairly sure you won't, but it's in the air. They think you're loaded down with so much gold and gems that you couldn't be _bothered_ to bring it all! A rich man who dresses plainly- supposedly- is also the type to buy his wife the most extravagant gifts." He sinks into his chair much the way he was crawling into his cloak on the ride into the castle; wishing himself swallowed by the material never to reappear in the eye of any man or woman again. He looks so uncomfortable- better now than later when he'll _**really**_ be in public eye- that I have to be a complete bastard.

"Don't worry," I coo gently, "So long as you don't dishonor any of them, Nayru shouldn't take offense."

"_You son of a bitch!_"

"Now, now, manners, Ralphie. Clear head, sound steps. Simple enough too remember, eh?" I grin at him like a fool as he holds the collar of my shirt in one hand with the other balled up in a fist to strike me. Oh, I don't doubt that he would hit me, he's done it before and vice-versa, but I think it's how we affirm that we're friends with one another.

I don't think he had much of a reply for my comment, and he was probably considering going through with the punch, but for a soft sound dimly going off in the background. One, two, three- again, it sounds. One, two, three-

"Those are the bells?" He asks, letting me go as he stands straight and listens again for the dull tolling. "Those aren't coming from your temple though, are they? That's off in another part of the city!"

"Dinner time!" I say, getting to my feet properly as Ralph walks off to his mirror again and takes up the amber earring from where it was set down and puts it on. A short, navy blue cape rimmed in red also goes around his shoulders and I watch him slip on a thick stone ring impressed with a seal of some sort before turning back to me.

"Yes, those are the Temple bells, impressive, hmm? Come on, I'm sure you're ready for something aside from dried meat, stale bread and water." We exit his chambers and walk past the guards, whom he dismisses to get some well-deserved food and rest. The two of us then continue on down the corridors.

"They're going to announce you in at the doors before you enter." I mention, having forgotten the formality. "And you'll probably be last since you're the honored guest." I add, I'm a bit curious as I don't get the same outraged response out in the hall, I can see a flicker behind his eyes when I glance at him, but it takes a moment before I realize he's trying to compose his features.

"You'll be at the Head Table with His Majesty, Zelda, Sir Ladekhan, the Ambassadors, and a few of the higher nobility. I'll be down at the Knight's table. Oh-" Hell, I forgot. I stop us abruptly with a hand on his arm just as voices begin to grow down the hall, people assembling outside the grand doors.

"Almost every noble has a hidden agenda; I hope you realize that, even you and I." I say, dropping my voice down low so that he has to bend his head a bit to make sure he hears me. "You don't need to worry about most of them in there, as for the most part the Nobility simply bicker amongst themselves for trade and territory and won't have much to do or say about you until tomorrow when His Majesty opens up the subject about Trade, but that's not important now."

"What is important then?" He asks quietly, "Come on, don't dance around the issue, the last person I need stumbling over things is you, give me a damn bre-"

"Salvin."

"Who?"

"His name is Lord Salvin," I say shortly, occasionally looking around to make sure no squire or servant comes up unexpectedly. "An arrogant prick with any number of things rammed right up his ass. He'll give you hell, I'll bet anything on it. He's not as brilliant as he thinks he is always hanging onto the King's arm and whispering to him, but he's not someone to count out. Believe me, Ralph; say as little as you can to the velvet-wrapped ass without being impolite, he made my life hell when I first arrived here. He might think you're hiding riches, but so far as you can help it, don't let him know **anything** about you!"

I watch Ralph's face closely as he takes in what I've told him, his lips moving soundlessly as I can tell he's trying to recall something. I notice him suddenly look worried and wait for him to speak.

"Hanging onto the King's arm? As in, feels he should be able to walk right into His Majesty's chambers unannounced?" I nod dumbly, yes, that sounds like Salvin. Ralph frowns, and I do too since I can connect the dots.

"Already made your first impression?"

"Badly, yes. He charged in when I was speaking with the King and he was teaching me some game your people play. I have to admit I hadn't noticed how much I'd relaxed until he barged in proclaiming something which the King dismissed." I suppress a groan.

"And I don't think he's fooling himself into believing I'm rich, either." Ralph admits, and I listen. "He had this insanely feral look in his eyes when he recognized me. He looked utterly disgusted for a mere instant before he finally noticed His Majesty sitting right across from me, and his eyes glassed over to give him this freakishly calm expression."

"That is _**exactly**_ what he's like…" I say morbidly, clapping a hand on my friend's shoulder as if to say I'm sorry that we're both on someone's cutting block. "Well, all's not lost as it's probably best to have made impressions before the banquet; it means you can eat without wondering what those odd looks he'll probably throw about mean." I make myself smile, as really it isn't that horrible a situation. I glance around the corner and note the thinning of the crowd before I look back at him.

"I'm going to go get through that gaggle over there to find a seat at the table, don't worry; the trumpeter makes sure you don't do anything stupid. When nobles make bad entrances he gets the blame." I bite my tongue with a grin and Ralph gives me a rueful smile before I nod to him and- for the sake of being an ass- give a shoddy bow before saying one last thing;

"Remember; clear head, sound steps."

* * *

The moon is out tonight, and it's lovely to watch. I've seen its face a thousand times in every phase, but it never seems to lose its beauty. The night is warm, with enough of a breeze coming from the sea not so far away that my light half-sleeves are more than adequate. I run one hand back through my long hair, taking care to straighten the coiled gold-like bangle around my wrist, casually turning the similar coil around my throat to make sure the clasps are not showing.

Everything is quiet now that the sun's gone over the horizon, but not silent, no, never that. The soft humming of night-time insects floats through the air, a gentle wind rustling leaves overhead, and dimly the sounds of townsfolk settling into late evening conversation and food can be heard through parted windows. There is no greater peace than Lynna city at night.

"When will you be back, my Lady?" I turn with a smile towards Blossom, a woman whom I've come to rely on in the past few years since so much began to pick up within Labrynna. Her dark hair is tied back in a bun at her neck, a deep green country skirt and yellow long sleeved shirt are the farm wife's normal attire, and she doesn't differ from it tonight.

Her son is in his early teens now, a reclusive youth who grew up in troubled times. His parents lived in Holodrum years ago, and were forced to leave after a strong year of unpredictable weather and chaotic seasons led them to near bankruptcy and starvation. Regrettably the family arrived here only months before Veran appeared and the chaos followed with them. Thankfully though they were able to settle here, and I'm glad for it.

"Not very long," I reply, giving her a warm smile as I look towards the construction site in front of me. Timber frames stand at random intervals to mark what will soon be supportive walls and separate rooms, more frames and various beams lay off on the other side of the site, waiting to be positioned or fastened together properly. The fervor with which the citizens of Lynna go to their work each morning is heartwarming and I clasp my hands together in front of me so as to keep from fidgeting them in excitement.

"Do you think the Prince will enjoy his new home?" Blossom asks, and pulling my attention from the piles of timber and stone which in my mind already form strong, solid walls. I look to her and have to laugh a little as I nod my head to her enthusiastically.

"I promised myself not to look on it in the future, at least, not within say thirty or forty years," I say, tacking on the number of years as I know in my heart that by then it will be even more grand than what the people are building now. "I can see him squirming and fidgeting and asking why he can't sleep in his small house anymore when he arrives, even without dabbling in anything."

We share a quiet moment together before I note the cloak in Blossom's hands, and we turn to one another.

"You should be on your way now, my Lady." She says, handing me the thick blue wool which is bare of any mark or insignia. Although the night is warm, I accept, where- or rather, when- I'm headed it will five nights before the Winter Solstice. "You don't want to be late for your host." We share another smile and I keep from correcting her. For one who knows all far past and present- even an Oracle cannot know her own immediate future- being late is never an issue.

"Good night, Blossom." I say, doing up the wooden clasps of my cloak so that it drapes around me warmly. "I should be back tomorrow morning, late afternoon at most if I forget. This is… the second Spring Full Moon, in the second year of Prince Raphael of Ambi's reign. Yes. I will be back soon." Although I have the memory of every Oracle before me, and dates are but numbers in my hand, it is always proper to announce the time before leaving it for another.

Blossom tugs at her green skirt to spread it slightly, dipping her head down in a curtsy which is admirable for a farm wife. I nod back to her in farewell, and hum lowly in the back of my throat. The few notes drift into the air which Blossom cannot hear, frozen with her head bent to me, the sounds of the night still, as does the wind, the leaves and even the conversation within windows.

I settle the hood of my cloak over my waving hair to hide it, holding one hand out in the frozen night before singing wordlessly within my bubble of time. The Oracle of Ages is the only one in the entire world who may move through time with no repercussions of age. I shall age how I wish, when I wish, until the time comes when I relinquish my duties onto another.

It is almost as though I can see the sound of my own voice, curling like mists around my outstretched hand, the melody comes to me at the moment, although at the same time it is much like the tunes I used to sing in the glades of the Lynna woods. However, this song is not to simply sooth the creatures of the woodland, but I do allow myself to be comforted by the sound of my own voice for a time before the spell completes itself.

The weight of crystal, wood, wire, gold, and precious gems all slowly form within my grasp, and I allow the final note to drift into the silence of stilled time. Looking to what I hold before me now, I smile and gently run my finger over the Harp of Ages. The round instrument is a mix of blues, violets, and golds all seamlessly attached to a wooden core said to have come from the Maku Tree, or perhaps even her own predecessor. The wires which shine golden are, despite their thin lengths, almost soft and soothing to the touch. I have the ability to move through time aided only by my voice and will, but there is no need now for such forced power, it is draining upon me, and I would truly prefer for my outing to not take very long.

I sing now for the simple joy of doing so, my fingers gently strumming the instrument as I hold it in the crook of one arm, before finally plucking the melody I wish to use to carry me through time. The strings call out for my touch, and I indulge them as far as I dare, even the Oracle may be thrust into the various dangers of this art such paradoxes and undone realities.

Knowing time is not the same as escaping distance. I have been asked before in many lifetimes why I simply do not speed up time when I travel so that I am there faster. Well, that is quiet simple really; those who are being spun through the web of time do not notice its passage; it is the world around them which exclaims over it. The only exceptions are the portals which dot the land of Labrynna, which act as doorways much like the one I am opening around me now. However, I do not suffer the repercussions of time travel. As it has been said, I am in control of my aging until the time when I am no longer Mistress of Time.

The world around me blurs in a twisting mass of twilight. The sun and the moons dance across the sky too quickly for either to hold onto the world in my eyes. I step casually out of the ways of trees which reappear after having been cut down, swerving easily out of the wake of buildings which rise and fall as the waves do. I know the location of all obstacles, and within this safe barrier of mine, the people of the days are of no consequence to me.

"Three days before the Winter Solstice, within the seventeenth year of Queen Miriam of Ambi's reign." I say, my voice holding the melody to it, but not singing exactly as I announce the date once more. My fingers leave the strings despite the ache which abruptly wells up within my heart, the music of the Harp is so beautiful that even time itself surrenders to its voice. It is always a great shame to have the songs come to an end.

Once the final note fades from my hearing, I hum once more in the silence. The melody is the reverse of that which I used to summon the harp, and the aching within me fades as I am relieved of its weight. I sigh as the instrument returns into the ebb and flow of the ages to sing itself to sleep until I call upon it again.

I stand only mere steps away from where I stood beside Blossom, here, almost five hundred years before her birth. I give a slight squeak as my sandaled feet meet icy snow, and I feel myself laugh sheepishly at my foolishness in wearing summer clothing to a Winter Solstice. Tightly holding my cloak around me, I debate whether or not it's worth it to return to Ralph's time to don something more appropriate, but I simply giggle at myself again and begin walking.

After the fall of the Regency some two hundred years before Ralph's time, the castle of Labyrnna fell into disrepair and was finally simply allowed to fade into the highlands. The monarch itself fell perhaps only a few years from the time I stand now, moving through the ankle-high layer of white, and it is not something I look forward to. Queen Miriam Ambri XII was the final Queen of notable power and ability in Labyrnnian history, although I do secretly hope that I will be able to establish Ralph as the first King since his grandmother's time.

Her fall will be painful for Ralph to endure, for despite the gap in centuries between them, they are as close as relatives who have only physical distance to contend with. The only apparent _'good'_ things which may come about of it should be Ralph's recognition of his position. He is good to take on the responsibilities of a prince, but I know my friend, and he still wears his crown as a costume and not as a real position. On the other hand of course, there is also the fact that I do not myself know the specifics of the Ambi's fall. It is simply a corner of history I have not explored, and I do not intend to simply stand by and watch, I feel an obligation to Her Majesty the Queen. She is Ralph's mentor, and he respects her greatly, even had I not failed her myself at the hands of Veran years ago, his respect is enough to convince me.

For now though, I want to think less on politics, and more on weaving my way through the streets of Lynna Village. I intend tomorrow morning to head towards the Maku Tree's grove, to speak with the thickening sapling and perhaps entertain her with a bit of song, and tales of the times before her own.

"Hold, and state your peace." I halt as told, the stairs and gates leading up towards the long, majestic terraces and gardens of Lynna Castle's expansive outer grounds are illuminated by dim torch light several yards ahead of me. The burnished helmets and halberds of the Labrynnian royal guards are visible to me, the sky is clear and showing the moon's nearly full face, thus their armor is a mix of shimmering golds and silvers.

Approaching, I lift one hand up with my coiled bracelet circling my wrist. It too catches the light of both fire and moon, and I take a moment before speaking.

"I am Nayru, Oracle of Ages." I proclaim, allowing my hand to drop. "I have come at the summons of her Majesty Queen Miriam Ambi of Labrynna."

"Hail the Oracle, long live the Queen." I nod to them as they salute and go about opening the gates for me, allowing my hood to fall back as I take the steps carefully to avoid slipping on the snow which has been trampled in places and threatens to refreeze as ice.

"Would you allow for an escort, Oracle?" One of the guards asks, and I give him an appreciative smile before nodding to him. I pause only for a moment to actually take a look at them both; they look tired, but more in the way of troubled men than simply those chosen for the night watch. Drained of energy and distraught. That it is in one does not bother me, but it is clearly reflected in the eyes of his partner. I hope that I may simply be able to put it down to some sort of distress amongst the guards, not the people.

"Thank you," I say, one of the two stepping up next to me and extending in arm in a fairly elegant manner as I set my hand on it to be led. "I look forward to speaking with the Queen." I pause again, although we've begun to walk and I am eager to get in out of the snow, however I have to take a moment mentally to take in his reaction. His eyes drift off to the side, and I can see the lines of his rough face seemingly grow deeper. The signs of deep worry.

"Aye, Oracle." He says after his own pause, his voice is rough, but not unkind. "I suppose you would."

* * *

**Hehe~! Nayru's in!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Again, I laugh because I'm the only one who knows where this is going. And I'm actually making it go places now too!**

**Ehehe... I like drunken revelry...**

* * *

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 8 

To say that I enjoyed the night's festivities would not do justice to the event. The feast prepared by the skilled culinary hands of my kitchens was more than enough to satisfy any pallet. Hylian pike, garnished sparingly yet smoked to perfection so that not even Zelos, the Zora Ambassador in my court could pass up a second helping. Generous displays of various stones and crystals, carved into attractive shapes were both pleasing to the eye, and to the tastes of Cor Doma, the Goron Ambassador visiting from Death Mountain. There were of course, countless other dishes set about to satisfy the other members of my court, including some of my finest wine to wash them down with.

I must say that a single moment that night both ruined the event for me as horribly as it filled me with a surprising wealth of pride. My child seemed to float upon the very air itself, gracefully ascending the dais where the High Table sits in a lovely gown of all the summer reds. She is her mother over twenty winters past, and I felt a deep throbbing in my chest as she made her bows to me before taking her seat at my left. The right was reserved for the Prince, much to Salvin's very apparent dislike, as he in turn was seated to the left again of my daughter.

The Prince's garb was tasteful, but plainly so. However I believe Salvin made the correct -though rather sly- argument that men are better off lacking in jewels so that their wives may stand out all the more. I did not quiet have the time to study his delivery of this analysis however, for the poor boy! He went so red at that he buried his face in his wine until the next course was presented.

As I had decreed earlier in the day, there was no talk of business within my hearing, although I cannot doubt that it was whispered amongst the lower tables filled with Hylian nobility and castle go-ers. Instead, after a slight bit of wine to wet one's pallet, the conversation remained on friendly topics, most specifically that of music.

Music in Hyrule is a fundamental right and a skill. It is through our voices and our composure of songs which we give thanks to the gods, it holds our lore, our history, and undoubtedly our entire culture. I was pleased to see the skittish Prince open up a trite when my child chose the topic and practically forced him to contribute. It seems he himself is a budding musician, having had much practice with the Labrynnian Oracle.

It is quiet possible that I indulged a bit too much in my own drink, as the slight ache in my head the morning after hinted at. However I do clearly recall becoming a bit loud myself as Sir Ladekhan -seated to the Prince's right- began making rather vocal requests for music. I doubt from what I remember of his flushed complexion, that he meant for the Prince himself to entertain us, but as my chief bard appeared with a beautifully made, and lovingly tended violin, the young Prince -whom I believe was also indulging- ended up as the one playing.

I caught the look, it wasn't for me, but I caught it. Salvin's face was red from something other than the wine, his eyes pointed daggers on the Prince as he spoke with the bard and gave the instrument a few testing runs. I could practically hear Salvin's thoughts, and sighed into another cup of full red delight as I knew tomorrow I would be hearing about outrages against the crown.

But at the time, by Din's fateful wrath, I frankly did not want to hear a word of it.

Salvin's expression did in the end cool when I managed to nudge Zelda a few times to earn a sight of her mother's sapphire eyes, before I quietly mentioned her own skill with a harp. Impa was sent off silently from the hall, and returned a minute or two later with a leather casing decorated with scrawling vines embroidered onto the flaps. I did my utmost to ignore the blue roses hidden amongst the leaves. It was once her mother's harp.

The Prince did not know any courtly tunes. Rather he had begun to ease a song which reminded me of glades and the woods where I used to hunt as a youth. Zelda took only a measure before she was able to ease the images of flowing creeks and rivers into the medley, and at long last I heard the wind as I can only guess either one of my bards or the Hero himself took up an ocarina. I did not spare Salvin a glance as the song ended in strong approval from the assembled nobility. I did not want to see whatever rage he was hiding behind his eyes, my glass was filled again, and I was content with the music.

Zelda sat out the next song as the Prince took the quick opportunity to down the last of his own goblet. The duo returned to a trio and then became a quartet as the Prince and the Hero broke into a more fanciful and dance-inspiring song which filled the mind with thoughts of the mountains. I am long past the age where I can climb Death Mountain alone or at all to visit the Gorons, but the quick nature of the violin and sharp almost squeaking sounds from the Ocarina received table-jarring stomps and laughter from Cor Doma. My bard added words to the drum-like rhythm which Cor Doma contributed to the display.

I do not know how many more songs were played after the loud scraping of tables alerted me as to the beginning of wide-spread dancing through the hall. Nor do I recall how many of them were played by my child, the Prince, the Hero, or all three at once. Perhaps the final bit of conversation which I remember clearly before it all fell into a haze of good food, excellent wine, and whimsical memories, was between the Prince and the Hero. I don't even remember who said what, but it went along the lines of one challenging the other to walk a straight line before telling him to keep away from the drink.

An appropriate challenge, given the circumstance I would have defended my own right to the vintage if it had come under question.

Of the dancing, I only lumbered down to the floor once, and it was with my child on my arm for one of the slower songs. I am not so feeble so as to be unable to keep up with something more lively; but it is best not to push one's luck when the world is falling into drunken revelry.

I know for a fact that she did a good deal of dancing that night as well, a wind-swept rose of red dancing across the floor most often in the arms of the Prince. This, I will admit, was a surprise. And I do not know how I noticed nor remembered this, but whenever another young woman would sweep up as though to cut in, the green tunic of the Hero would intercept and the hypnotic twirling of the dancing would continue.

I believe I fell asleep on the dais. And the morning after, I regretted it.

"The Princess seems quite adamant to remain at his side." This comment from Salvin rouses me from the slight daze I apparently fell into whilst recalling the night these days later. I lift the fine china up to my lips and inhale the strong aroma of the somewhat bitter, but very soothing drink which was a gift from the Prince. The prospect of trading for the brew is on the table again today, and I must say I've taken an instant liking to it.

"Hrm? What was that?" I ask, looking across from me where Salvin is settled into the deep red chair studying the game board in between us. King's Men in the morning always helps me think before the day begins in proper. I was considering summoning the Prince this morning, but Salvin arrived before the runner to take word.

"Cavalry Charge." He says; leaning forwards to move a number of his pieces in a complex move. It is a shame that I was the one to teach him the strategy, but I make it appear as though I am considering the next move as he speaks. "The Princess Zelda, she and the Prince Ralph have been keeping to on another's company since he arrived near ten days ago. It seems that unless he is conducting business, he is either with her or the Hero himself." I snort, and go ahead shattering his offensive position.

"Road Block." I collect three of his cavalry men in my hand as I complete the appropriate counter. "And I do not see what can be so wrong with all of that. He is new to his position, and he knows both my daughter and the Hero from a number of years ago. She is merely being kind, Salvin." The silence which comes next is deafening.

"…She took him into her garden this morning." I freeze. I do not know why in the logical sense, but my hands solidify around the small cup in my grasp, my chest suddenly tightens. "They left the hall this morning after breakfast." I feel cold…

"Usurper. A good game, Majesty." His hands are a blur across the board, as though I cannot watch what is before me at the moment. My mind follows his moves, and I see no error in the rules, my ivory king atop his throne is left lying on his side, symbolically. When I moved forwards for the block, I opened a way for him, a flaw I have never seen exposed to this strategy. The Knight piece snuck through, and now stands atop the dais, king.

Salvin makes some mention to taking his leave, and I dismiss him with a lifted hand. I could trick myself into believing he thinks I am still studying the board, but that would be fool-hardy. As I could hear his thoughts and his revulsion that night of the banquet when the Prince and my child played for the hall, I know that at this moment he can hear mine as clearly as the Temple Bells.

* * *

I grace the halls majestically as I walk down the corridors, leaving His Majesty to his thoughts, alone in the chambers he once shared years ago with Her Majesty the Queen. No doubt those memories plague him now, as does the prospect of his own daughter seeking the same sort of company for herself in short time.

My boots are soundless across the deep blue rug which follows the middle path of the corridor. I take the time to enjoy the scenic route through the hallways towards my chambers, and I pause once and only once before making it there.

I stop and stand at a window. Threaded with black iron holding the tiny, intricately formed panes of clear glass, the windows which look out onto Her Majesty's garden are without colour save for blue along the outer rim so that the beauty of the flora may be appreciated. Often have I stood here, as I am now, wondering as to the Queen whom I have only the faintest recollection of. I am only scant years older than Her Highness is now, but I know from the words of my father that she was a woman of the purest breeding; an obvious conclusion for she was the sister of my mother, and thus the perfect match for a King.

Her Majesty the Queen's garden, a gift to her from a devoted husband and passed shortly onto the only child. The implications of her inviting any young man into it privately are beyond my control. The implications, not the notion.

Looking down now, I can see the young woman whom the older members of the court call the mirror of Her Grace. She is next to the stream of water which crosses her garden repeatedly before filtering into the mote, and the one with whom she is conversing is clearly visible. I am thankful His Majesty did not choose to investigate his daughter's company himself.

The Rabble Prince has been wrapped up in trade negotiations since the pre-dawn hours this morning. It is the Hero of Time who is entertaining the princess now. He nods and shakes his head, making wide –and flamboyantly irritating- gestures with his hands, and she numbers off points on her gloved fingers before covering her face to hide laughter. It sickens me to watch her spend such time with a mongrel.

And as for Trade, that his Majesty has accepted the gifts from Labrynna at all is a shock. A canister of that revolting dark powder, made from plants which only grow in specific parts of the highlands in his country, a place called _'_ _Symmetry_ _City'. _Regrettably, I must admit to some quality in the pottery which was gifted to the Lady Impa. Apparently he remembered her from Labrynna's plight some years back, and gifted her with a fiery jar which looked as if to be made from solid red stone, and coated inwardly with ruby-red glass. But regardless, glass is still nothing more than glass. Supposedly he finds the masonry of his people to be of some consequence as well, for he presented the Princess Zelda with a jewelry box made of a pale blue stone which is almost soft to the touch. According to him it holds various compartments and was carved entirely from a single block.

The negotiations for all of these things; stone work, pottery, Caffka –as is supposedly the name of the brew which is bitter beyond comparison- is another blight which requires dealings immediately. His Majesty signed a number of trade agreements just last night which were approved by the Hylian Lords with whom the treaty deals. And the agreements themselves are abhorrent! Hyrule will see almost no decrease in her profits, but for what they are exporting the Labrynnian people will be garnishing far too much!

And I cannot receive a decent answer as to _why_ any of this is. I have not sat in on any negotiations thus far, but have had the displeasure of entering one of the chambers after their end. And all I ever see are those two bumbling fools which dare rank themselves with myself as viziers to their Rabble Princeling. That I am forced to call him Prince in public is in itself more wretched an ordeal, defeated only by my having to bend knee to that irrefutable _**slop!**_

The tension in the air, one could slice through it with a knife, and it is always deadly silent if one stands outside the door. And yet Lords known well and wide for their tendencies to hold on to every last shred of cloth, grain, or other such good which their holds produce come out drenched in sweat, bearing treaties for His Majesty to look over and sign. What is more, I could flay many of them with my tongue for this final atrocity; the length of time until these treaties expire, for to break a treaty before it's expiration is of the greatest dishonor to the breaker.

Ten years of glass ingots, silks, and parchment, for ten of Caffka, pottery, and that strange pearly blue _'soap' _stone. Labrynna is also armed with treaties from Holodrum, thus as well the underworld of Subrosia. To travel from Holodrum to Hyrule is a dangerous affair in any weather, but Labrynna is building better, more manageable roads through the Goron Range. However, a number of those ridiculous treaties with Holodum states that the sections of mountain being used for the roads are to be under Goron authority! It is embarrassing! All trade by land between three countries being directed by Gorons? How utterly humiliating it is to have our Golden Land tying its hands behind its back because of two bumbling idiots who simply cannot be argued with! What is _**wrong**_ with everyone!?

I leave the window behind, befouling my own mood with such unsightly thoughts, having not a care as I walk past a door which abruptly opens. I can feel that same tension spill out into the hall as none other than the Prince of Beggars himself steps out of the room pinching his nose. I cannot help myself, I refuse to. I will simply order Malvo wash if not burn this outfit later.

I alter my course just enough so that, with a bit of effort, I shove one shoulder directly into the un-suspecting Prince. He stumbled and gives a slight exclamation before tripping over his own feet and stumbling into the doorway. Unbalanced, his head smacks back against the frame before he slips down to the ground in a surprised heap.

"Oh! Why I am so sorry, Majesty! How foolish of me!" I exclaim with all the malice I dare allow into my voice, the words drip with venom as the Prince blinks in confusion before both noticing me and beginning to push himself back to his feet.

"That is quite alright, Lord Salvin." He says in wary voice, eyeing me as I make a bow, and I know he cannot tell whether or not the collision was accidental or not. The sound of his head striking wood and stone is all that makes up for the shame I feel having to once more bend knee to the Mongrel.

"If you will excuse me." We part ways, although I note a bit of apprehension in the room beyond us. The Lords inside paused when the Prince was abruptly struck down, but I spare them not a glance –weak in their positions, and disgracing their blood- as I continue down corridors and hallways to reach my chambers some minutes later.

There is a goblet of chilled wine awaiting me, Malvo's plain figure hidden in one corner and silent as I enter. Good. I take up the wine and forget myself as I take a large swallow, hardly tasting the vintage, although I am pleased that it is not the best year. I am not in the mood for tentative sips just now; I want the drink for itself.

I strip off my gold-green tunic and toss it to the floor in a heap; I never liked the colour much anyways. The shirt on underneath, did my arm graze his lower form? I toss it down too, pausing only to swallow again from the goblet.

"Do away with these." I order sharply, "But first, run me a bath and leave the bottle. I feel soiled." I do not see him nod to me, as I wasn't facing him to begin with. But I know my orders will be carried out to the word. Sometimes it seems as though Malvo is the only one who knows his proper place.

* * *

My agreement with Blossom to return by evening doesn't seem likely to go as planned. I could of course always orchestrate my arrival back in Ralph's time to keep to the plan, but I have found in my time as Oracle that pretending less time has passed than what I've actually lived -such as in this case, pretending to have been gone only a day when instead this visit is turning into two or three even- is far too complex and confusing.

I last spoke with Queen Ambi several months ago when Ralph resided here. She asked for me to visit again by the Winter Solstice, and for all that it has been only such a short time, I am nearly horrified to see her now.

I should have expected it, should have known it would happen; there can be no Ralph in the future without a child now. But this is nothing like I had imagined it would be.

Her majesty looks haggard. For most women pregnancy brings out all of their natural beauty, but Ralph's ancestor looks more distraught and saddened than any of her household. And to be frank, the smiles in and around Lynna castle are so few and far between, I myself feel brought down by all of it.

"A Labyrnnian Lord, Majesty?" I reply, seeking clarification. I was unable to see her last night when I arrived, and she slept away most of the morning while I was out –in more proper attire thankfully- meeting with the Maku Tree's younger self. It is near evening now, and I arrived back at the castle with a fierce winter storm at my heels.

Sitting in her salon now, a warm fire in the hearth keeps the chill of the winter outside from reaching us. Seated on a plush sofa, the Queen is swathed in blankets and robes, her long red hair unbound around her shoulders. Her eyes are rimmed in red, sunken cheeks and skin like parchment. I cannot tell how much of this is due to her being heavy with child, or the grief running through her.

"Aye… A Labrynnian. Not my beloved." Bringing one hand up over her lips, her Majesty is truly not so old, nearing her mid thirties, but at the moment she looks twice that age. A pale blue handkerchief is in her grasp, wrinkled and stained from tears and nervous wringing. She dabs at her eyes, sniffling slightly as whatever bulk she may have already sustained from her situation is hidden with all the pillows and blankets.

"No… not my beloved. A Queen married to a sea man of questionable morals? I would have been in ruin." She sounds so… so heartbroken to say it like that. "Thank the gods however that I found him when I did… I would never have married a Hylian… He… is not here at the moment though. He is in the country for one thing or another, he got me with child; his duty to me is fulfilled." I nearly flinch at the spite in her voice, looking down into the dark caffka in my lap. Lightened as it is with cream, I prefer the brew of Ralph's time. "The entire ordeal was so horribly rushed. You know, he is my second husband. And he's just as terrible as the first." I look up at that,

"Majesty?"

"Hmm? Didn't you know that, child?" She looks too me curiously and I shake my head slowly, she offers me a smile which still maintains traces of sadness, before looking back into the flames.

"I was… fourteen." I nearly choke, and I give Ralph's ancestor a shocked look, she only smiles at me a bit more before once again turning her attention to the fire. "He was an old man, and had no interest in me, a friend of my father who had passed on unexpectedly. When that happened, I needed a husband or else I couldn't claim my throne. He was a good man, I suppose, when I became his wife and all that was mine became his, he kept it all together, and fought tooth and nail with anyone who tried to take anything which was under speculation. He was an obnoxious old man though though, and irritating. I was glad when he died four years later and left me to run things properly."

I have to give her a smile now, and although I know the facts of the matter, I can almost see the babe in her belly as being Ralph. This feisty, fiery woman –however dampened she is now- is truly his relative. No one can do the job better than they two, so they'll do all the work despite how badly Ralph at least simply doesn't want to do any of it at all.

"Oh, Nayru…" I look up again from where my eyes have drifted down again to my cup. When I see the pain in Her Majesty's eyes, and the tears threatening to overcome her, I swiftly set down the china and hurry to her side. Her hands seem so small in mine as she begins to tremble all over.

"My beloved… my beloved… I'm so sorry…" Simply holding her hands is not enough, and I move so that I may hold her, allow the last of Labrynna's noble queens to weep in private.

"How could I?" She sobs, holding onto me tightly as I can feel her tears beginning to sink into the fabric over my shoulder. "How could I do this? I swore to wait for him, Nayru, _I swore!_ I've never crumbled before, not like this, not ever! All of the nobles of Labrynna were here, I knew we would entertain them this autumn, the entire household was prepared and everything, and then suddenly the entire hall was chanting in favour with a marriage I hadn't even heard of! It was my court, Nayru! _Mine! _Why didn't I just say… why didn't I… I just…" Her words break off into nothing more than the painful sobs of a powerful woman unused to being trapped. She cannot see herself as a prisoner of words, or of treaties, and least of all her own body. The reality of it all now, promises to her people, signatures on paper, the life within her, I can tell that the Queen is so alienated now from even her own household…

I refused to feel the passage of time around me, not counting how long it takes before Her Grace once again begins to regain her composure. I help her to lie down on the pillows of her sofa, readjusting the blankets around her before I pull over a small cushioned ottoman and sit at her side, holding one of her hands gently in my own.

"Tell me of him…" She says quietly after a time, the fire beginning to burn low in the hearth, and I can see their flames reflected in the back of her half-opened eyes. "Tell me of Ralph… He is perhaps the only reason I have not… shamed myself completely…"

I smile softly, scooting a bit closer so as to gently brush a few strands of her deep red-gold hair from her face. She looks so thin… like an old woman despite how I know she should be full of vibrant life. I can feel her age, and her years should not hinder her so. It is the pain of a broken heart which makes her sick now… the love for her lost chosen warring with the maternal feelings for the life within her belly…

"He is… becoming a real Prince now…" I begin, "He's rebuilding all of the major roads through the Goron Range, and up to Symmetry. And I don't know who else he's mentioned it to, but he told me he'd like to build a school in Lynna." Her eyes drift shut slowly as I speak, the barest of smiles tugging at her thinned lips.

"No castle for my grandson then?" She asks, not moving in the slightest, not even to touch her stomach where her child for the here and now lies growing.

"It won't be a castle, but…" I cannot help it, images of the construction sight back home… yes, home… where Ralph's manor is slowly taking shape. "I am already building something for him. It will be lovely, but a home more than anything. He would not settle for anything more, not that he knows of course." I continue to smile at the thoughts while the Queen's own expression lightens as well.

"Hmm, spending a man's money without telling him first, you naughty girl… A wedding present perhaps?" At first, the question does not even register for me, and I look at her curiously. When the words however do align themselves in my head along with all of their hidden meanings and repercussions, I stiffen. The sudden laughter –though it is quiet and little more than a chuckle- from the queen before me brings fire to my cheeks.

"When it's finished, I could show you," I offer, trying to shift the conversation a bit, tripping over the words as Her Majesty merely smiles at me, and again there is that hint of sadness again.

"A home is never finished, Nayru." She corrects warmly, shifting a bit before resting one hand over her belly; she isn't so big just yet actually. Perhaps only nearing the midway point of her pregnancy. Silently, I try to do the math in my head; I last saw her in the summer, her Majesty welcomed the Hylians I'd assume in early autumn. To be so far along by only midwinter… she really meant it when she said the courtship was rushed…

I'm given a start as her Majesty's face suddenly twists in discomfort, her hands gripping the blankets suddenly as she sucks in a sharp breath and stiffens. I'm immediately on my feet leaning over her. Her eyes hold those warring emotions still, two loves, slashed with fear and hatred, with only the slightest, faintest hinting of bleak hopelessness coupled with a ray of hope just as miniscule. To see so much in such a brief flash is… powerful…

"Majesty?" I say, suddenly worried, her sunken cheeks pale for a moment as she stills, looking ill before replying.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." She says, breathing deeply a few times before settling herself back down. I watch her carefully for a moment before going about adjusting her pillows once more; smoothing her blankets before finally I can stand it no more.

I leave her side and head for the fire where it is dying down, there is a stack of wood ready to be added by a maid or servant, but Her Grace specifically asked that we not be interrupted. I carefully lay down a few fresh logs, blowing gently on embers and low flame until I am sure that the new wood will catch. Finally, once I can feel the heat begin to build back up, I return to her Majesty's side.

"Now…" She says, satisfied with the state of her blankets around her, and having recovered from the spasm, although I cannot think of a reason for such a reaction due to the pregnancy. Nodding to the fire as it begins to resume throwing shadows around the room, Her Majesty gestures for me to reclaim my seat. "Back to the important issues…" I look to her as she seems to straighten up a bit where she's reclined. "How will I be attending?"

"Attending what?" I ask, unsure of what she's talking about now. Although I must admit, her mood seems to be changing rather quickly. I can hardly tell that a short time ago, she was shambles in my arms mourning a love she feels to have betrayed.

"The wedding of course."

"Wedding!?"

"Yes, yours and Ralph's." She says simply, and with a bluntness which forces flames across my face. By Time's Grace! This woman is worse than Din sometimes! "I know you are touchy about allowing time to flow at it's own pace, but if we are both to be busy, you could even pick me up tomorrow." My eyes simply widen as I look at her in shock, I try to say something, but she simply breezes through my stutters, considering her options.

"Although I think sometime next month would be better, or sometime after the New Year has begun in spring. Yes, you two wait until you're ready, and then pick me up in the summer of my eighteenth ruling year." I give in, I laugh.

"Come now, what's so funny?" She asks in an innocent way, folding her hands in her lap as I reach up to cover my mouth as giggles and full laughter escape me in a flurry. It hurts to laugh so much, pain building around my ribs as I feel short of breath.

"Majesty…" I gasp in between my nearly hysterical laughs, I feel moisture around my eyes however, tears forming as it is as though something has gone off inside of me. My hands come up, less to stifle my laughing and more to begin cupping my face, my body shuddering less and less from the hysterics which are swiftly fading. I cannot explain my own reaction, am I just… tired?

"Nayru…" I do not look up from my hands as Her Majesty says my name softly, rubbing my eyes as tears leak from under them and another sob or two come loose before I can manage to regain a bit of control.

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"No, don't speak. Come forward. Let me see your face." I haven't anything with which to wipe my face of tear tracks, but I try to rub them away as I turn my gaze back to the woman who looks so ill, dwarfed by the pillows and cushions around her. I leave my seat, scooting across the floor towards her and sitting on my knees at her side to do as she says.

"Close your eyes." She bids softly, but with an air of command as I do as she says. Her hands are soft and warm despite their new-found look of frailty, touching just under my chin and turning my face this way and that, holding it in a way so that I am profiling the fire.

"Hold your chin out a bit more, keep your mouth closed… There…" Her fingers fall away and I slowly look to her again, seeing a warmth in her gaze as she smiles softly.

"You have a royal profile, Nayru, and you will have noble children…" She says quietly, and I feel words of denial forming in my throat, only to be cut off as she shakes her head at me. "For now, you are the Oracle of Ages, unbound by time and its eras, free to walk and wander at your will. Unable to live as the rest of the gods' people do until you find your place in the ebb and flow... But I think that now I can see the signs that the final time we meet... is coming up all too soon. I wish you luck in finding your protégé."

Everything she says, and has said, it seems to all be coming at me in a rush. As the Oracle of Ages, like she said, I do not belong to any one era of time, or at least not the one to which I was born. My mentor found me, lost in time, and took me in, taught me all of the dangers and the beauties of his art, all of his lore came unto me… and then he slipped away into time and into the life he was meant to live. He held all of his memories and lore, but his abilities became mine, he lived and died well.

He once told me that he and I were people who had been born out of sync with those of our past lives. Our soul mates were locked away in some other era, both sides merely halves without one another, thus unfulfilled. When he found his other half he went to it. I did not honestly spend much time alone after I lost the man who was closest to me as a father. I undid my own age and chose at random a current of time to place myself… Inexperienced as I was, I was whipped about like a doll that first time, and woke up in a smoky woodman's hut.

The first thing I remember upon having woken up… was a pair of green eyes peeking out at me from under a mop of unruly red hair…

My mentor, he wandered for ages untold to find his place in time, and yet I never once felt the need to vanish again into the flow of ages again. I aged with a young, short tempered youth whose father was as gruff as he, and embittered by the death of a young wife years before.

At first, maybe I'd thought I'd found my own protégé, I would tell Ralph all of the things I knew about Time. And when he didn't understand, he would leave me alone for days, only to return again with more questions until he was sure he understood as much as he could comprehend. But I eventually learned that he was not an Oracle as I was, he wanted to know, but he didn't want to experience anything I told him.

He shrugged off every offer to see time moving in a stream of days and seasons, would listen to the Harp of Ages for hours in the forest glades, allow it's melody to sooth him in the months following his father's death, but he never dared to touch it. In fact, I think he was almost frightened of manipulating time for the better part of his life… the only time he ever stepped through any doorway through the Ages was… it was…

To… find me… When my mind was lost to my body and my powers, and I succumbed to the Sorrow of Veran's touch…

The boy I met through pure happenstance, who wanted to know all about my abilities yet never try to mimic them… who overcame all of his fears to try and rescue me. The young man who trusts me with his secrets, and his plans, and who does his best to swallow –albeit grudgingly- nearly everything I put before him.

"Your Gra-" This time, it is a hand which silences me even as I find the courage to attempt speech, tears well up and blur my vision, and I feel them streaming down my cheeks. But they are without sobs, and I don't… feel any pain.

"No more of that. No more tears, no more titles. I have no sight, Nayru, none which is at all like yours. But when we are alone, I am Miriam, and you are my granddaughter."

* * *

**Well, snap. I don't know if I already mentioned Ralph's eye color as being something else already, 'cause I actually -for some reason- got my hands on a bit of the original art for Oracle of Ages, and the bugger's eyes are a bright green. So, sorry if they were something else before, but they're green now.**

**I laugh again because Ralph dressed so flamboyantly in the game compared to the somber woodsman-turned-Prince I've made him in to.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I've been spending a lot of time just sitting at my desk doing little more than listening to various Zelda songs since I posted chapter eight. It's good to just think sometimes, and Scop's appreciated questions helped jumpstart my mind as to the flaws in this story.**

**You may think it a bad thing for me to be wasting precious hours –if not days!- just sitting here thinking instead of writing, but I can assure any and all of my readers that just boldly typing on ahead –for me anyways- almost always leads to constant second-guessing and past-chapter edits. So enjoy this one!**

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 9

"Augh… Either your summers come sooner, or they're much too hot…" I look up from the book open in my lap and smile to see Prince Ralph squinting into the sunlight as he steps into my garden. I slip the thick violet ribbon which is attached to the cover in between the pages before I close the book, chuckling slightly as the Prince makes a bow from across the small wooden bridge which spans my garden's creek.

"Permission to enter her Majesty's garden?" He asks lightly, having slowly grown more comfortable and familiar with courtly manner in the near two weeks since his arrival. Dressed in a blue tunic which is considerably lighter than his land's actual color because of the weather, he wears simple doe-skin trousers under it with a red belt, and simple brown boots.

"Stop being an ass and sit down already." Link mumbles in a sleepy manner, only perhaps half-conscious where he lies with his shoulders and head up against the base of the wisteria vine. His fingerless gloves are abandoned on the grass beside him, ankles crossed and fingers threaded over his chest where he fell asleep a short while ago. The trellises overhead provide more than enough shade for us both, although a few small patches of sunlight do make it down to illuminate his golden bangs, and dance across his green torso. The amount of space the vine gives however is still enough so that we needn't move to admit the prince.

"I take it another day's worth of negotiations are wrapping up?" I ask casually, pulling my eye from the Hero as Ralph takes a seat between the both of us. I reach off to one side and picking up the small wicker basket and silver dish which hold the remains of the bread, berries, and honey we were snacking on earlier. I offer them to Ralph, who looks over the spread before taking up a roll which is perhaps only warm still because of the increasing heat of the day. Blessedly, within the castle's stone walls, and here in my garden with the running water, even the fiercest summers are lessened.

"Thankfully, yes." He answers, nodding to me in thanks as well for the food as he helps himself to few choice blueberries. Although I'm not hungry, I also take one or two for myself as they're exceptionally sweet.

"Although I believe Ferran was about ready to throw a fit and break everything into a shouting match before I suggested ending discussions for the day…"

"My father has been telling me stories about the both of them actually…"

"Like a pair of meek little lambs ripping out the throats of wolves…" I sniff slightly to cover a laugh, Link is always surprisingly blunt when only half-conscious, or drunk. Yes, especially when drunk, although that oddly enough can be quite a rare sight in itself.

Of course, I'm a good, naïve little princess who has absolutely no knowledge of alcohol.

"Well, he didn't put it quiet that way, but yes, I suppose so." Ralph gives a sort of sigh and relaxes with his back against the trunk of the wisteria, blocking my view of Link, but I can still see his booted toes swinging back and forth casually on the grass. When he speaks again I can tell that he's more or less completely awake now, only slightly interrupted by a yawn.

"How long are you staying here for anyways?" He asks, and, as I mentioned before, has to accommodate for a wide yawn part-way through. "Shouldn't keep the _Lady-Regent_ waiting too long."

"You shut up…" I look between Ralph's turned head and Link's swishing boots for a moment, not quiet sure as to the reason for the sharp tone in the Prince's words, at least until he turns his head again and I can see his profile. Well, more notably, the stain of crimson across his cheek. I give a tiny, almost mischievous smile.

"Wedding bells in Lynna City?" I ask, watching as Ralph tips his head forward before looking to me in surprise.

"Oh no... Don't you start that too…" He says in a forlorn way, although I can see it's there to hide embarrassment. I hear Link begin to laugh at him and join in as well, watching the red slowly creep up his face.

"I am a Prince! I do not need this sort of abuse!" He cries, and I can't help but allow a childish grin to spread across my face as he stands and walks towards the flowing water.

"Oh, c'mon you sour puss!" Link says, calling after the Prince as I look to him again as he alters his position so that his neck isn't kinked up against the vine trunk anymore. Propping himself up on his arms, I set my book down and rise, kneeling next to him and picking a few of the leaves and tiny twigs from the vine's base which caught themselves in his hair.

"You look like you've been rolling in the dirt instead of simply lying in it." I explain as he turns his sapphire gaze to me, blinking slightly as though he isn't really as awake as I thought he was.

I hear a snort and muffled laughter coming from the stream, and glance over to see Ralph snickering slightly behind his hands. Splashing his face again with the water to cool himself off, the Prince keeps looking to Link with a hidden message in his emerald eyes.

The two of them keep exchanging looks like that, and to be perfectly honest, it makes me feel as though I'm being left out for some reason. For a moment, I think I can almost relate to how Impa probably feels whenever Link and I begin to banter with one another jokingly and leave her out of things.

While I allow myself to stew over my own thoughts, Link rises and stretches out his limbs and back, casually making his way into the sunlight and over to the water as well.

I should think that the Prince would have been more suspicious, or at least slower to let his guard down. I watch them both for a moment as Ralph goes back to splashing his face with the cool waters of the stream, and give a slight yelp of surprise myself as a swift kick later the Prince is thrashing madly in the water- a good foot deep I must add- before resurfacing, his feet having remained on the ground whereas everything from the knees up hit water. In the end requiring his feet if he wishes to stand however, Ralph ends up completely drenched from head to toe, turning onto his back in the gentle tug of the stream and wiping his sopping red hair from his face and spluttering madly.

"You… You-You-You-" He stutters,

"Now, now, none of that in the presence of a Lady." Link coos mockingly, kneeling down at the water's edge as it's clear that Ralph cannot retaliate –considering how he's completely water-logged- without giving him enough time to get out of the way. However, instead of trying to splash or attack just for the sake of doing so as I've come to expect from watching the two banter with one another, the Prince's head simply vanishes down into the water again before coming back up with a sigh.

"This feels quiet nice actually…" He says in a relaxed tone, floating himself in the water with one foot bracing against the bottom to keep him from being carried under the bridge and towards the narrower sections of the stream.

Standing, I leave my book sitting in the shade as I brush off my gown and make my way over to them, smiling and shaking my head at their childish behavior as I fold my bare arms. I swish my skirts a bit more than I normally would as I walk up to the pair of them as they continue to talk, not excluding me of course.

"So, how much more work do you have to do here anyways?" Link questions simply, sitting on the bank of the creek in almost exactly the same spot as where Ralph was perched before he went in. The Prince considers this a moment before speaking.

"At the latest, you'll be rid of me by mid-summer." He says, before taking a slight breath and dunking himself again into the water. To be honest, I almost feel a bit of envy for him as he does that. Leaving the shade for the glare of the noon-sun reminds me of how warm this gown can be, and the water truly does look refreshing… "I still haven't met with the actual leaders of the Goron Tribes yet though… Ambassadors are one thing, but I'd rather avoid insulting anyone at all costs."

"Darunia should be rolling down the hills any day now." Link replies. He tilts his blond head to the side, –and catching the sunlight as he does so- as he thinks. "Yeah, I think Sir Ladekhan sent a messenger to Death Mountain the day after you arrived. So really, any day at any time."

"Darunia…" Ralph repeats, again dunking himself and making me silently wish to retreat back into the shade, but then I won't be able to hear anything. "That name was brought up a few times by the Goron tribes in Labrynna. Leader of all the tribes which fall within Hyrule's boarders, right?"

"Brother!" Link bellows abruptly, fisting one hand and smacking himself over the heart twice as if in a salute. And I smile, as I can clearly recall the look of utter terror which crawls across Link's face whenever the familiar jolting of Gorons rumbles through the air. Thankfully Darunia and the other Gorons no longer embrace my father so boldly, and are gentle with me when paying their respects. Link of course, is their _'Brother'_, so receives a full on embrace from the gentle miners.

"Princess Ruto of the Zoras will also be coming down river soon," I comment, "She normally comes when the waters from the spring thaw begin to recede, which should already be happening up river. The Zora survey the damage caused by spring flooding, and then check up on the condition of Lake Hylia."

"Actually, I met with a Zora convoy off the coast when I arrived." I blink slightly at that, and wait for him to explain. I get a shrug before he pieces a bit of it together for me. "Right, it was King Zora of Labrynna, he sent word to the Hylian sect and a band of them flagged down the ship for a few days to speak with me. I don't remember a Princess though; it was just officials and such from Zora's Domain."

"Well, give it a bit more time, a few more days, and you'll have your full share of the Princess." Link snickers mischievously, and I sigh slightly as I know that- as it has been every year for the past five- Link will mysteriously _'vanish'_ from all events. He'll remain out of sight both within the castle if not the city until the Zora convoy with the Princess Ruto is at least three days gone. And he's not once explained why he does that!

"Well then, mid-summer it is then. I'm sure you'll be glad to get rid of me."

"Oh, come now. You make it sound as though you're unwanted." I say, standing behind Link with my arms still folded, smiling down at the floating Prince kindly. Link simply swivels his head around to look up at me through the glare of the sun.

"Isn't he?" He asks. I sigh.

And a swift kick later, the both of them are yelling in surprise as Link finds himself in the arms of the Prince, effectively submerging Ralph's flaming head again, this time with his mouth wide open. I chuckle to myself as I turn away from them and finally retreat back to the blessed shade, although I don't sit down immediately as I hear further splashing in the stream.

"I'd rather have the Lady-Regent!" I bring one hand up to cover a giggle as Ralph exclaims over the arrangement, and further splashing indicates an end to it as I glance back over my shoulder and find Link floundering under the bridge. It isn't until I turn away again to keep from breaking into full laughter at the sight of them both that I hear Ralph call out to me in a very worrying manner.

"Ohh, Princess!" He says, his voice abruptly becoming too innocent, almost singing. I can feel the grin etched into each word.

"Goodness me, Zelda! You look as though you should cool off a bit. Perhaps a bit of water might help?"

I spin, right on my heel ignoring my silver tiara as it abruptly finds itself askew with the motion. They're both out of the water, both grinning, and they both exchange one single, knowing look. I'm torn between panic and amusement.

"You wouldn't _**dare!**_"

* * *

"Ow! Stop it that, it hurts!" I shriek, shattering my composure and fully aware of that failure as I try to jerk my arm back from Lady Impa's grip. I bite nearly through my own lip as a result however, as the movement sends a flash of hot pain up my arm from wrist to shoulder, fading into a dull throb as I whimper despite myself.

"Stop struggling and it will stop hurting so much." She says testily, and I feel a strong sense of dislike for the white-haired nursemaid as she continues to remove the hardened cast from my arm. I almost cry out simply from surprise as the last bits of cloth and plaster are pealed away to reveal a mass of black and violet bruises over my arm.

"_What's happened!?_" I cry, feeling a tremble rush up through me, and biting back a yelp as my arm is still as tender as it looks. "What's wrong with it? Tell me!" She holds one hand up to me in a sign of silence, and I bite down on my tongue in order to comply. I take in a sharp breath through my nose and look away as she sets one hand down along the length of my arm, and I nearly cry out again as she applies pressure to it.

"You… you stupid boy! What did you do?" She asks sharply, and I balk at her and look to her in surprise only to find her dark eyes centered on me pointedly. If she wasn't holding my arm I'd shrink back from it.

"Do? What do you mean, _'do'_?" I ask crudely, although it is out of place. True, it has only been only just over two weeks since I was flung from Epona's saddle and onto blistering flagstone. I've yet to have a moment's respite from my pained arm since then.

"Something has jarred the bone; it's out of place and not healing properly." Lady Impa seethes, she is always so harsh with people, and I pity the Princess in some respects. But as she speaks, I feel myself pale; and her eyes –if possible- narrow more so.

"… My Lord went riding a few days ago-"

"By Din's Raging Flames, boy! Were you not specifically confined to bed until your arm was healed!?" This time I visibly flinch from her, but still dare not remove my arm from her grasp. Without the cast upon it, it feels so tender now that I fear it may very well snap off should I try to lift it.

"But. My Lord-"

"Is not so daft that he cannot figure out how to saddle his own horse! Or brush her down before and after an afternoon hunting with the Prince! And if he has forgotten how in the year you have served him then the Prince will know! And if neither of them know how to then there are a number of perfectly capable grooms _living_ in the stables who had_ best_ know how to look after your Lord's horse lest they be tossed out into the _**streets!**_" I swiftly strike the fact that while in the midst of preparing Epona, I was jarred by her and smacked my arm into one of the walls of her stall. It was an accident and she nudged me again with her muzzle afterwards in apology, but I told no one of the pain.

"Can anything be done for it now, Ma'am?" I ask shyly, knowing that her temper is alight and that this puts her in her most potentially violent state.

"Can anything be done? Can any- Oh, that is _rich!_" She replies scathingly, and I shirk back again from her scalding tone. "I'll tell you what can be done now, boy. We break your arm again in the same place and leave it to heal properly!" I feel a sudden flash of horror.

"What!? B-But Lady Impa-"

"And no magic from Her Majesty this time either!" She cuts in, silencing me with another glare as I try to wrap my mind around the possibility of having to endure the pain of a broken bone again. "Honestly, using the power of the Triforce on boys; it makes you thick-headed louts feel immortal and then you go off and pull off some other insane and stupid stunt!"

"What if there's a mistake?" I ask in a panicked tone, but I can't think straight at the moment to correct it. "What if it's broken again in a different place!?"

"Then your arm will grow crooked to teach you a lesson!"

"But, My Lady-!!"

"What's all this then?"

As one, both the Lady Impa and myself break off our conversation and look towards the door. My Lord cousin stands there with a light behind him, signaling the presence of his man servant, the gold the candles within both my room and the hallway reflect off of his hair which is a bit darker than my own. His mint-green eyes seem to glow in the low light as he glances briefly about my chamber before looking first to my arm where it rests uselessly in my lap, and then towards the Lady Impa.

"Is there an issue with my cousin's health, Mistress?" He asks in a smooth, velvety tone, sliding forwards with near soundless steps as the gold thread embroidered onto the edges of his deep roan tunic glitter. I glance towards the Lady Impa and note only the brief tightening of her features before she speaks.

"Lord Salvin…" She says in a tight manner, undoubtedly still annoyed with the state of my arm, and she glances back at me with stern disapproval in her gaze. "It seems your cousin has been unwilling to rest as was advised. His arm is out of place now, and will require further treatment."

Ever since I donned my Lord's colors over a year ago, many members of the court seem to have forgotten my family ties, which is what happens to most young boys who enter fostering. It is also perhaps for the better, as it wouldn't be right for a noble lord to bow to a squire in day-to-day life. My father and the Lord Salvin's mother are siblings, thus when the two of us use the term _'Cousin'_ on one another, unlike most of the court where it is simply a formality, it holds true between us. I think even my Lord tends to forget that relationship sometimes though.

"Is that so?" My cousin asks, watching the Lady Impa's stony face closely as he continues to glide across the small space between himself and my bedside, settling himself down with only the faintest look of distaste for the pilled woolen blankets pulled up to my waist. Without touching me, he examines the bruised surface of my arm, the Lady Impa remaining oddly silent as he apparently ignores her.

"A bone broken when thrown from your Lord's mount." He drawls, before his eye once again leaves me and returns to Her Majesty's nurse. "I heard enough from the hall, break it again? I shall hear of no such thing."

"And what might you propose then? Allow him to heal with a lame arm?" She scoffs, and I continue to maintain a solid silence. Cousin has that look in his eyes again, when he feels as though he is being denied something. It is perhaps the only part of his character which I feel a sense of dislike for.

"The Hero's carelessness was what caused the accident in the first place." He replies, and again, I maintain that silence despite the argument which abruptly rises, and needs to be bit back in my throat. "This child is his responsibility to train and to take care of, as such; I expect that he do his part to aid in the recovery."

"A childhood injury such as this is little more than character-building, the discomfort- however unfortunate- will bring caution next ti-"

"Are you defying me?" Involuntarily, I swallow hard at the tone my cousin's voice abruptly takes on a decisively darker tone. "Hmm? Does the Tearful Sheikah defy me?" Oh, how I wish sometimes that it weren't in his nature to ruffle his feathers and preach family position so much. The Lady Impa's eyes widen only slightly at this challenge from him.

"Well, Sheikah?" Again, my cousin's voice challenges her position as the Princess's attendant. "The Hero of Time is renowned for his imperviousness to injury. Tell him that it is expected that he put some effort into the well-being of his own squire. Red jelly, holy water, the Faerie Queen herself if need be! Go. Give him that message."

My ears burn in humiliation as the Mistress Impa simply stands as a statue in the wake of my cousin's tirade. Although she is not looking towards me, I can see- if not only feel- the silent war within her, pride and anger pitted against a deeper sensation so few care to remember the cause of now adays. Finally, after a moment of agonizing silence, the Princess's Sheikah nurse moves, not nodding or bowing or even looking back towards me, she silently slips through the doorway. I only see her briefly pause to look at my cousin's servant, Malvo, who for once is not hunched over in that unnervingly obedient manner. The two hold one another's eyes for a moment before the Lady Impa finally vanishes down the musty corridor, and the air is still charged with tension.

"Close the door, wait outside." My cousin says smoothly, waving dismissively towards his man servant as Malvo bows his head where he has remained in the hall all this time; his eyes blank of emotion now that the Sheikah has passed and he reaches for the door, closing it with a low scraping sound. This leaves the two of us alone in the light of only the few candles on my desk.

"Cousin…" I say quietly after a moment or two, allowing him to take in the less than glorious accommodations I have as a Squire. I wonder if they've changed much since he was fostered here as well. His mint-green eyes look to me as I speak, but I find I don't really have anything to say. What can I do? Ask him not to speak to the Lady Impa like that? On what grounds could I make that argument? No. When he looks to me, I simply lower my eyes, inadvertently catching sight of my bruised arm again where it remains half-wrapped in the old bandages which were shorn away earlier.

"I demand nothing more than what is to be expected." I look back to my cousin as he offers the explanation for a question I didn't ask. He stands and walks over to my desk, more notably the tray which the Mistress brought in which is piled with bandages and salves. I half expect him to summon Malvo as he looks over them, but a moment later he takes up a roll of white bandage and a small jar of paste with its small brush.

In silence, I allow him to carefully move my arm about as he begins to bandage it once more, liberally applying the cool green paste in between the occasional layer to help numb the pain. I have to say I'm surprised to have him tend to my injury, I can only rarely recall him ever doing something like this perhaps a few times; hunting trips with him and I in the company of our fathers.

"Do not think ill of me, Cousin." He says, and I look up at him as he finishes tucking the last of the bandages around themselves, I hardly feel any pain at all as my arm from elbow to knuckles is swathed in white once more.

"I don't." I say quickly, simply so as to keep him from thinking I might harbor those sorts of feelings. I smile openly to him to make sure he understands that my fast answer is not to hide anything. "I know what you want, Cousin, you just surprise me sometimes with your methods. Thank you." I add the thanks on as I nod towards my arm as he allows me to simply settle it onto my lap once more in bed.

"Rest yourself. And no more errands either." There is a note of warning in my cousin's voice as he speaks to me, but as he catches and holds my gaze, he smiles. Sometimes I forget he is my cousin under that smooth mask of calm and Lordly charisma, but when he smiles as he does now, I always recognize him as my cousin.

"I'll make something of you someday, Timothy," He says, standing and placing one hand on my head to ruffle my hair affectionately. Sometimes it's as though he were an older brother to me, but over the past year or so, this has come to be so only in private, and only on very rare occasions such as this one. The dislike my Lord tends to feel towards my cousin is very clearly returned.

"Here." I blink slightly to dismiss my wandering thoughts as I notice him holding something out to me, with my left hand I accept the item, and recognize it instantly as a book, one emblazoned with the royal crest. A book of histories, one from the Royal Library which I don't recognize, I feel a grin begin to spread across my face.

"Thank you, Cousin!" I say happily, eager to open it and see what parts of history it covers, but recalling my manners and nodding to my cousin in thanks. He smiles again, but his face is slipping once more into that dismal calm.

"Perhaps what I make will be a scholar. Enjoy your reading, Cousin, I found it in a corner of the Library a few days ago and thought you might like it. I'm sure you'll share anything interesting with me..?" I nod enthusiastically to him as he stands by the door, opening it while returning my nod with a slightly smaller one of his own.

When he is gone, it is all I can do not to immediately lose myself in the pages of the book in front of me. It is apparently something about my character which has garnered the attention from everyone from my father to the Mistress Impa to my Lord himself. I am not the fastest reader, I'll admit, but when new information is set before me I don't know when I've ever failed to properly retain it. My Lord laughs and encourages me to read in my spare time, as he believes it important, and often times my cousin will occasionally find a way of bringing me some new material via the castle library. It is perhaps the only area in which they share the same interests and views.

As my thoughts drift more to my Lord, I find myself turning the small leather-bound book over and over again in my left hand. I should not feel the slight bit of relief which my cousin's order brought me. No one should command a Sheikah –let alone her Majesty's private attendant!- to run errands, and I felt a slight pang of near-insult when my cousin demanded that my Lord do the same, only this errand may very well involve his running all across the country!

Still… when I think of the pain of a broken arm being broke _again_… I can only sigh in relief that there is a medicine which can spare me that ordeal. Actually, it was not Epona bumping up against me in the stables which is likely to be what jarred my arm so badly. No, I'm personally more willing to put it down to the tumble I took down the dark, cramped servant's stairwell _after_ I had seen to Epona…

At long last, I can stand it no longer. The leather binding cracks as I open it, pages yellow with age parting between the clumsy fingers of my left hand. The notes on the beginning page from the old author tell me that this is something to do with the old rebellions of roughly forty years past, although they ended only about two decades ago just before my cousin was born. Genealogy, the bloodlines of Hylian Lords, many of whom leave legacies now of only slowly forgotten ruins of mighty keeps. I seem to be receiving a lot of books pertaining to the wars recently from my cousin, but it bothers me not.

According to my Lord, he is supposedly the son of a Knight, but he doesn't know anything more than speculation. The Hero of Time; the son of a knight who no longer has a name, whose likewise nameless wife fled into the Lost Woods and died before the Great Deku Tree. In fact, my Lord doesn't even know if his given name is from either parent or if the Tree itself bestowed it upon him.

All in all, it makes for an amazing pastime. Studying old maps, looking over family trees, in fact, I have a number of papers with bloodlines scrawled onto them from the scrolls which I needed to return to the library after copying out. Either my Lord or my cousin always seem to find a way of procuring these materials for me, and frankly I'm not about to let a good thing go to waste. Whatever I can't figure out now, I know I've got an unlimited amount of time to work my way through it.

For now though, I'm content to lose myself in the old texts.

* * *

**I was almost ready to denounce the LoZ manga for not having Ralph, and then he was abruptly introduced screaming hysterically while finding a way to reach Nayru. So really, I love the manga xD**

**And… that Ralph is hilarious… but frankly… I like mine better.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Oh, **_**squee!!**_** I told myself that the fun could begin by Chapter 10, and I think I'm actually on schedule for once! And what's more, changing from the Zelda music to a Classic Love Song CD from the American Idol people's helped get the thoughts going. **

**Many continued thanks to those of you who review, your comments and questions make me more and more eager to get on with the story. **

* * *

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 10 

Several years ago, during Ganondorf's coup d'etat, Hyrule Castle burned. The damage, thankfully, was not extensive although it robbed us of many fine pieces of ancient art and memorable decoration. In the years following Ganondorf's swift fall from power at Link's hand nearly every stone in the palace has been scrubbed repeatedly in an attempt to rid any ash or char from the walls and floors, the Evil King's final marks.

Thankfully, despite the violence of Ganondorf's take-over and toppling, one of the most difficultly engineered wings of the castle was not damaged. The knowledge of the Water Corridor's construction was lost in the rebellions which ended with my father crowned as king. An entire wing of the castle built below the rest of it in a similar style to the above halls, but completely submerged and comfortably designed for Zora guests. The water is fed into the wing via the river which runs past Castle Town, and a portion of the out-going flow is directed through my garden before joining the rest in the mote and the city water system.

Zora are very much capable of traveling across and living on land. But in the heat of summer or chill of winter it can be dangerous for them; they are not made for the extremes of either hot or cold unless born and bred to it. To ask the Lord Zelos to maintain a room in one of the castle's ordinary halls would boarder on cruel during the more extreme times of year.

For obvious reasons, I've never been able to see the Water Corridor, and normally only the closest few rooms are inhabited by Zelos, King Zora's Ambassador in my father's court.

The large, dome-shaped chamber which leads to the Water Corridor is something I have often visited however. Beautiful stained glass windows with images of Zora and Hylian peoples cooperating glitter in the afternoon sunlight, and in the cool light of the moon the depictions of waves almost seem to roll and sigh like the real thing. As a child I often imagined that this chamber must appear as a large blue soap bubble from the air.

A crescent-shaped strip of floor is left along the side of the room where a number of other nobility such as myself and the Prince Ralph stand waiting. There are stairs before us which lead down into the calm, softly rippling waters of the corridor, which is a number of yards below us and extends out in the direction of the river.

"Wait, you mean, he's actually _left?_" The Prince whispers as I suppress a sigh and nod to him, watching Ralph puff out his cheeks before letting the breath go. There has been a slight murmuring of voices around us since the summons began to ring throughout the castle perhaps a quarter of an hour ago, so until my father arrives it's alright to speak- albeit quietly.

"He vanished this morning, I even sent Impa to find him and she turned up nothing." I report, somewhat miffed with Link's habits. "Typical of him really, he's never once stayed to see the Princess Ruto." I frown and fold my arms as a sign of my disapproval, yet again I have failed to find a reason for his lack of attendance.

"He didn't really go on orders from Salvin, did he?" This time I shrug, as I wouldn't really know. I am however aware that Impa's frightfully bad mood has finally faded from two days past when running into Ralph and I sopping wet in the halls set her off more than it ought to have. At the time, Link was fortunate enough to be called off by one of Sir Ladekhan's messengers and had to hurry off to either find something dry or appear before my father's commander still sodden from the garden.

"And it is _Lord_ Salvin," I correct absently, "Honestly, I don't see why you and Link don't refer to him properly. Has he wronged either of you? I think not." The Prince merely grumbles.

"I dislike him, that's all, Princess." He replies after a moment more, shrugging slightly as he clasps his hands behind his back and rocks back and forth on his heels as a sign of his growing boredom.

"They should be here soon." I mention, stilling his restless motions as he keeps his hands behind him as though to keep from continued fidgeting. To be honest, I find his manner amusing. "The Oracle must have a terrible time keeping you serious…"

"Princess, have I done yourself and the Hero some grave personal injustice?" He looks away from me as he speaks now, and the taught force behind them as he grits his teeth gives me a sort of sadist satisfaction as he squirms inwardly at the mention of the Oracle.

"None which readily come to mind, no." I answer breezily, taking a moment again to examine the stained glass of the entry chamber.

"Then must you both insist on mentioning her?"

"Mentioning who?"

"…Don't be naïve, you know who." I allow a mischievous smirk to cross my face as he glances to the side in a put-out manner, and I can see him struggling with a fierce blush. He's become so much better at hiding his thoughts since he arrived, but the moment the Oracle Nayru is mentions he completely falls to pieces. He does, however, give me a sidelong and rather dejected look.

"You… you're going to make a terrible wife…" Despite his burning face, I can hear the sarcasm in his words, and bring one gloved hand up over my lips as I stifle a giggle.

"Ah, I am not late it seems." The chamber goes silent as I follow suit with the rest of the other nobility to look towards my father as he enters. Those of us in the chamber each bend knee to him with the rustling of skirts and the flourishes of hands and sleeves. The Prince offers a polite bow with one arm held across his midsection and the other hiding itself behind the back of his Labrynnian blue tunic, and I myself offer a respectful curtsy before stepping forwards to take my father's arm. Swathed in a silken robe of deep sapphire with his ivory cane, the colour compliments my own gown of pale blue and white. So much blue today; the color of Nayru- both the Goddess and the Oracle-, the Zora and Labrynna. I don't doubt that if Link ever actually made an appearance that he'd shuck his normal green attire for the same hue as the rest of us.

"Daughter." He says to me with a nod and a smile, but I notice something odd in his dark eyes, and I almost think I see him looking to me as if taking something in that he hadn't noticed before. Unconsciously, I reach up to touch each of my silver triangle earrings, and to make sure my silver tiara is straight atop my pleated hair, in case it is some flaw in my appearance which garners me the attention. That is not the case it seems, and he breaks out of that momentary stupor without pause before allowing me to dutifully lead him to the water's edge.

"Ah, Prince Ralph, it seems you bear yet more gifts for my people?" My father comments while looking to the Prince where he glances up from speaking to one of his viziers. It's the tall, reedy looking one with the pale, bashful face. In the man's long hands is an unadorned wooden chest; and I can only assume that inside rests Labrynna's tribute to the Princess.

Ralph is spared an answer as my father swiftly raises his hand. My father's eyes quickly look to the somewhat dark waters before us before he turns and straightens himself to stand properly with myself still at his arm. The Prince finishes whatever he was saying to his man very shortly before likewise taking up his now expected position to my father's left.

The Zora have no fire to light their homes and cities in the oceans and the river springs. However, they are gifted with a sort of stone which emits a silvery light so long as it is given ample time in the sun or moonlight. A small chant of only two or three words is used to bring them to life. I don't know whether they also provide warmth, but this light is a sure signal that our guests are finally arriving.

The entrance to the Water Corridor some yards beneath the surface of the water and across the chamber from where we stand is abruptly visible in a soft silvery light. And then the Zora appear. They look as large, sleek lengths of fin and scale when they swim, moving in a school of proposing silver and blue. Like quicksilver fish, a group of about seven or eight enter and begin swimming around the perimeter of the room's sunken bottom causing minor ripples to form across the surface. They are as runners after a marathon, swimming constantly even after reaching their destination to ease their muscles from strain.

The Princess Ruto is easily spotted even through the ripples of the water, as she swims apart from the rest as well as a bit behind. Her own fluid form passes into the chamber from the submerged doorway a moment or two after her entourage. She arrives a bit slower, and instead of circling the room repeatedly as her companions are now finished doing, each one now either lazily floating near the bottom, or sliding easily through the water below as if conversing one another, the Princess approaches the submerged stairs immediately.

Every Zora loses a bit of their natural grace when they leave the water and stand on land, but the Princess Ruto masks the difficulty as her head breaks the surface. Her silvery skin shines as water runs off of her. Strong eyes, a solid navy blue from side to side -but with a light in them which gives the same focus as a human pupil- take in the faces awaiting her as she continues to step out of the pool. As with the case with most Zora, her body is lined with supple muscle which ripples in the patterned light of mid-day through the windows.

Long, elegant fins fall from her elbows in ruffled lengths akin to the sleeves of a flowing gown, patterned along the edges with the white lines of light shining through water. Her head broadens at the back however, unlike most of her people. It's similar to the head of certain breeds of shark I'm told, but it is merely a sign of Ruto's heritage; female Zora of the royal family are normally born with a notably different shape of head. We are the same age now, and I've heard before –often from Zora themselves- that when I begin to reach middle age myself, the Princess's broad cranium will begin to slacken, and will give the illusion of human hair. Well, so I have heard at least, we laughed about it a number of times as children, her and I together.

Clad only in that silver skin but for a number of beaded necklaces fanned across her shoulders and chest, as all Zora are, the Princess is still strikingly decent. Zora and humans share the same general build despite the former being notably more fluid in movement, and lighter in weight. In fact, even female Zora have similar curves as human ones, but, they require not a scrap of clothing to appear modest, if not regal, in appearance.

"Majesty." Ruto says quietly, a smile tugging at her lips before she puts her hands together in front of her legs; luminescent fins coming together from her forearms to once again resemble sleeves as she gives a straight bow to my father. He returns her bow with a nod, and I let go of his arm to perform a curtsy to her before rising and stepping up to her. I cannot help but smile with her, our hands coming up to clasp each other's own in a sign of friendship. Her fingers are cool and strong, and my gloves become a bit wet with the contact, but that is nothing to think on at the moment.

"Cousin," I say, happy to see her again after so long. "It is good to see you again; I trust your journey was a safe one."

"Safe enough, Cousin." She replies, mimicking my expression, light dancing in her dark eyes. "The river remains unblocked this year, and Lake Hylia is healthy. Jabu-Jabu sends his blessing." It is difficult to track a Zora's eye when they look about them without turning their head, but when standing as close as I am to Ruto, I note her eyes drifting across faces. Vaguely, I wonder if it's Link she's looking for, but that notion only lasts as long as it does for her gaze to effectively land and latch onto the Prince Ralph. As swiftly as she can without appearing overtly rude, our hands fall from one another and I blink slightly as the Zora Princess makes a B-line for the flame-haired Prince.

"Do you have my gift this time?" She asks pointedly, hands fisted on her hips and I feel my brows vanish into my hairline. A murmur quickly and near silently rippling through the assembled noble, and Ralph blinks.

"Oh… Princess…" Glancing towards the water again, most of the Zora have risen from the bottom of the pool, their silver heads bobbing in the water with their broad, hawk-like noses, and their own extended craniums which fold back as fish-tails, and I note Lord Zelos now in the water, identifyable only by the frosted-white tunic of light silk which he wears in my father's court. It is one of these Zora who speaks quietly in a sigh, and there are now more of them than before, making their circuit around the bottom before vanishing back into the Corridor court. Servants and other members of her party I would assume.

"It was packed away and down below deck when your party arrived. I didn't have time to fetch it when out at sea." The young Prince, one who normally balks at new faces and avoids attention from the court as best as a guest of honour -who is also still a Prince- can manage, sounds almost familiar with the Princess Ruto as he replies to her. I take a moment before remembering that it's normally the formalities which tie his tongue, and Ruto has cast those aside for the time being.

"Well, is it here _now?_" Ruto demands, bringing her arms up and, despite the wing-like fins from her elbows, manages to fold them in an annoyed fashion. I stifle a laugh as, as is customary of Ruto, she parcels out a hard glare for the crowd.

"If the Hero of Time still insists on avoiding me, what good is the rest of the formality?" She asks keenly, and I look to my father as he chuckles somewhat behind his beard. I sigh and, giving a small smile towards my friend, resume my position at my father's arm as is proper.

Ralph's gift to her is certainly lovely. Zora, specifically Ruto, are especially partial to jewelry even if it lacks actual jewels. What was once two branches from Labrynna's guardian, the Maku Tree, still baring small green leaves which he promises to her will not wither or rot or fall off, are presented to the future queen in the form of an anklet and a necklace. Well, perhaps anklet is not the appropriate term, a thin sprig of wood bearing leaves, bent and carved into beautiful swirls to mimic waves, spirals around the Princess's calf from nearly to her knee to just above the nub of her ankle. The necklace with its spring-green leaves is nearly lost in the array of beads already around the Princess's neck. There are no repeated admonishments from her entourage as she is so swift to try on her gifts.

"Although the Zora are people of the seas and rivers," Ralph says, watching how Ruto's eyes seem entranced with the wood curled about her leg, "Your waters give life to the prairies, forests, mountains and all the rest of the world. It seemed only appropriate for the leader of one such clan to wear the green of the forests as a tribute from those of us who derive a living from your people's work."

If there was any doubt at all in my mind that Ruto would not be impressed with Ralph, it vanishes completely, and I need to stifle a giggle again at the surprised look from the Zora Princess to the Labrynnian Prince.

* * *

I feel old, so dreadfully and pitifully old. Oh, but I would have already retired to bed to simply lie awake in such a dreadfully large but still empty chamber, did I not feel that damnable sense of duty which came to me with my crown. I know the causes of this wretched state as well, but can see no way in which to escape it. Instead, I find myself all by physically bound to this seat within my chambers, staring at the tiled board before me which still holds the pieces from my last game with Salvin. The thief standing triumphantly atop a throne I had thought secure.

The symbolism, however, is inaccurate to describe my current situation. Nor is it related to my distress.

The first source of my troubled thoughts is a woman who remains only in memory now. With golden hair and sapphire eyes which burned with untold passion and strength, yet with the clarity to look beyond earthly riches and bloodline titles. A woman who would deny her own father's claim to a throne his father before him lost to war. And who would then seat atop it the son of a Sage, a man whom should have done little more with his life than hid within the sanctuaries of the Temple of Time in servitude and let the world do as it willed.

Often times I have sat across from Zelda in these chairs looking over the board before me. In more recent years Salvin has come to frequent it, and over the course of the past few weeks the Prince Ralph has also faced me. In this subtle pass time have I learned a good deal about each of my opponents, I have led them through hours of trivial conversation and elicited the most interesting bits of information from their lips. But still, even after all of these years, and so many quiet nights alone with my only child, no one sitting has ever truly compared to hours spent across the board from my wife.

Memories of my departed love are only a part of my current melancholy however. The rest I fear finds its roots within the child whom she gave herself for. I have heard tale that some fathers look upon the children whose births coincided with the deaths of their mothers in distaste. I myself have always found such practices to be abhorrently cruel. For all that I ever have and will treasure my beloved even now that she is gone from me, I would never in my darkest, most twisted dreams, part with my Zelda to have her back. My own revolt at the idea always stops such thoughts long before my wife's own reaction can come into consideration.

It is not in any way my child's behavior which has soured me so over the past few weeks. It is merely… the inevitability of life which force the years to catch up with me in such a painfully unfair array.

I feel that things may be… changing… for Zelda. I do not disapprove of her company despite my mood, for it is of the highest moral character and noble loyalties. It is merely that… when my child, my tiny, twittering little girl… takes his arm and glides through the castle corridors speaking for hours. When I notice the brush of color across his face when he looks away and his focus is lost to his heart, and she likewise is left in calm silence to follow her own thoughts… Endless dances in the hall… When she leads him… alone… into the gardens which her mother planted for herself and I to share with our children…

I feel, so very old… And I can only sit here and wait for the nostalgia to pass; should these developments not be a source of great anticipation for me?

"You called for me, Majesty?"

I look towards his voice as Salvin gracefully makes his way towards me from the doorway. His teal clothing has a metallic sheen to it as he moves, light from the nearby windows illuminating his white and blue form as he makes his bow, golden locks catching the warm rays.

"…What news have you now?" I say, allowing the question whose answer I dread so dearly to pass my lips. I close my eyes only to momentarily regret my blindness as I can hear a subtle grin in Salvin's words. Oh-so smug he sounds…

"Attracted through the crowd to one another, standing lost in their words… You Majesty's presence was likely what started them from this state, although I'm sure you still bore witness…" I grumble lowly in my chest, although to no avail. Tender gazes and untold truths…

"Age can be a crushing burden to an old man such as I…" I grumble softly, although I am hardly aware of my words. My shoulder aches from the strain of a sword years silent in my chambers. My knee pains me even as I sit here, recalling a fall from horseback which jarred it from its place when my mind was painted too deep a red for the pain to even register. Oh, but I feel as though I were an ancient relic of stone!

"A pity that the Hero of Time was -once again- not in attendance for the Princess's arrival." Salvin comments smoothly, as though to ignore my comment, or perhaps simply to attempt to remove my mind from its current downward spiral. I merely give a near-silent huff in my seat as a reply.

"The rumors say that he left on _your_ order, Salvin." I say, and in my low mood I regretfully make it sound as though it were an accusation. Not to say that I doubt the rumors; merely that I see no harm in giving a reason to the Hero's odd tendency to vanish whenever the future Zora Queen visits. However… that does not change the fact that the Hero of Time is _my_ knight, not Salvin's to order about as he wishes. I soundly crush the weak voice in my own mind which points out the sacrilege of ordering Farore's Chosen around at all…

"I made a request of his services, it is true, Majesty. But I had not thought he would rush off so boldly!" Salvin does not await an invitation before taking his seat across from me, although, again, in my current state I feel an inkling of disapproval for this breach in conduct. I open my eyes a slight as I try to will these unpleasant feelings away, although they seem disinclined to accommodate me.

"…Are you still so embittered over his selection of gifts for the Princess Ruto?" I ask drearily, telling myself that I am attempting to banish my melancholy with a jibe at my young friend. He bristles at the comment, and my lips tug up in a slight smile behind my beard.

"A stone chest for one Princess, tokens from the Great Maku tree for the one who kneels to the first." He replies sourly, and I chuckle lowly at how distraught he seems over the developing situation, especially given his intense dislike for the Prince.

"I seem to recall, Salvin, that Zelda's stone chest was also lined with grooves along which the Maku Tree spread her branches. I find the two to be on equal grounds. What he said was true after all." I watch him seethe, and feel my low mood abate, if only slightly.

"A messenger arrived today from Darunia, Majesty. I thought it best to wait until after the Princess and her entourage had settled themselves into the Water Corridor before giving it to you." I lift one brow questioningly as Salvin stands and rummages about his person before withdrawing a piece of thick, crudely made parchment and handing it to me. Several hands across, creased and wrinkled along the edges; Gorons are not known for their ability with writing. They are beings of earthly song and bold dance for their messages, pounding their lore into Din's own red mountains. The seal, I am please to see, is unbroken, and remains so only for as long as it takes me to jam my thumb under it, disregarding Salvin's half-hearted comment of using a letter opener for the task.

From habit developed years ago in a time when I was not so soundly atop my throne, I take the good measure to purposefully tear the red-wax seal once I remove it from the parchment. Unfolding the crude paper, I sigh slightly and adjust my position in my chair, reading over the words before me all the while. This leads, of course, to a few moments of silence as I re-read, consider, and finish with the letter.

"That Darunia has been delayed is evident due to how unshaken my castle remains in his absence." I announce, watching Salvin who is still standing before me, hands now clasped behind his back, waiting to hear what I have to say.

"It seems something of great importance has come up high within the mountains of the north east. Word has come to him from Goron Tribes near Labrynna, and a summit, if you would, has been called. He sends his deep regrets that he will not likely return by the date the Prince has set to take his leave."

"Which is, sometime by midsummer, correct, Majesty?" The hopeful look in Salvin's eyes, for one reason or another, seems to bring the melancholy up once more within me. And I slump within my seat once more.

"Aye, yes, that is the time." I answer, folding the letter between my hands as I consider its words one final time. I should have this sent to Cor Doma; he may have already spoken to the Goron messenger who delivered this letter to begin with considering his absence from the Water Corridor earlier today. But it could spark any number of rumors about the castle, and in any light with-holding it without cause is simply bad manners.

"Forgive my impudence, Majesty, but I am so greatly relieved to hear you say that…" Salvin replies and I huff again in my seat. However, little by little, my mood is improving. He makes to relax more into his seat, and I can see his thoughts begin to drift slightly through his mint-green eyes.

Perhaps I ought to take this time to pick his brain through a good match. Although the Prince Ralph does take up a fair amount of lady's gossip within the castle, there are still plenty of other interesting little rumors fluttering through the air like spring butterflies. Perhaps one of the more amusing tidbits I have come across since the Prince's arrival is the tendency for a certain auburn-haired young thing to cross Salvin's path more times in a day than is strictly necessary.

"However… the presence of such heavy hearts and lingering glances will be a true shame…"

My mood, which has been on such a steady upward climb since Salvin first entered, comes crashing down around me in a surprisingly violent manner. At his words and their implications, my melancholy mind tumbles down into a state of livid revolt. Perhaps the worse part of my behaving this way is the fact that I cannot explain why it is so! I should be happy with how things are going. I should be supportive. I should be looking to the future from atop my throne, content to chide the young folk around me with a goblet of my own wine in my hand in place of a sword I am too feeble now with age to even consider using, never mind that I have nothing to use it on!

"You are dismissed, Salvin." I say shortly and abruptly, one of my hands having tightened its hold on my chair when his words so suddenly riled me into this wretched temper. I close my eyes to hide whatever violent emotions are flashing through them, blocking out Salvin's well-hidden look of surprise, if not shock at my reaction. It is only after they are closed that I suddenly realize a fatal flaw in this move.

For the past weeks or so, Salvin has been keeping to himself in a way which does not truly worry me, but which still requires an awareness of. Once or twice in our friendly talks has something I cannot recognize enter his eyes. The only reason that I have not yet identified whatever it is remains simply because I have not yet been able to catch a good, solid look at it when he allows his feelings to show. It is always so brief, appearing as he turns his head, or I look away, or just as someone interrupts us.

Or just now, when I closed my eyes.

I leave them shut, needless to say, as by now that flash of unmentionable emotion is gone. It is now covered up by his skilled abilities at hiding his thoughts and feelings until they are safe to show. The fact that I once again missed an opportunity to learn something from him, and that I find myself more and more falling into his trapping words whereas before I would see them long in coming… it only serves to feed my growing anger. I have not felt so deep a stirring in many years, perhaps not even since the rebellion of the Dark King which left me powerless within my own keep. It is an angle of my character which I detest completely, yet still it at times may rear its ugly head within me.

I hear Salvin excuse himself for overstaying his welcome, his boots tapping the carpet before the doors open, close, and he is gone. I open my eyes only after the sound of the latches catching fades as an echo through my so very empty chambers. That anger, that blacker angle, I force it down, down and away, attempting vainly to reason out my own emotions, to dredge myself up from this well of complete disparity. And yet there is nothing which may shake me of it!

That look in Salvin's eyes… I sit in my seat, eyes boring into the game board before me, that Thief standing atop the throne, my child in secluded gardens all alone…

I feel old, so dreadfully and pitifully _**old. **_

_**

* * *

**_

**An awkward ending to an odd chapter, I'll admit. I didn't intend originally to have Ruto in here, but thought I might as well since the idea of the sunken corridor came up a long time ago and amused me to no end. Thought I might as well give it a go. **


	11. Chapter 11

**As well, there is a key element to this chapter which is NOT at all related to this story at all, and there's only a slim chance of it being explained. If I ever get around to it, this will actually be a cross-over reference to my planned story _'Time and Again'_, another Zelda Fanfiction. Keep an eye out for it! **

* * *

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 11 

"But… that is a river, Child."

"For now, yes…" I reply, smiling at Miriam where we sit together in her salon. One of the slanted trays upon which we ate our lunch is still spread across her lap where her majesty reclines in her sofa. She is as always surrounded with blankets and pillows to assure her comfort. I will need to apologize most profusely to Blossom when I return; it's been three days at_ least_ since I arrived!

"Not one of the roads is still in use?" She asks me, still looking over the map spread across the dining tray and tracing one thin finger along a dark line which runs through the Goron Range to Labrynna's north west. The map before us covers all three nations, Labrynna and Holodrum to the north east, and the sloping south-ward coast towards Hyrule which lies far to the south west of here. It is a vague map in most terms, but is marked with lines of caravan trails and well used trading routes across both land and sea. If Ralph can manage at least a third of any such marks for his own maps, Labrynna will profit greatly.

"Years of disuse led to a lack of proper maintenance from the Gorons." I explain, "What portions of road are still in tact are inaccessible by any party large enough to require a wagon. Ralph surveyed them himself with a Goron escort last summer, and determined that much of the old ways are too brittle with age to rebuild. The gorge left behind by the river, however, is nearly solid stone and follows the same general path through the mountains. The Gorons had already begun working away at the project when I left."

"So… it will move south into Sunken City then?" She asks, and I nod in agreement, aware of the hidden message in her eyes and addressing it in turn.

"It _will_ provide a good deal of revenue for the city and Holodrum, and –yes, we know, Sunken will most likely be in a position in a few years to impose heavy tariffs, but again, Ralph is working towards something manageable. Before he made to leave for Hyrule, he sent word to Sunken Ci-"

"_Hyrule!?"_

I give a violent start as I'm interrupted by Miriam's sudden exclamation, the queen's eyes widening as she looks at me, a dangerous light flaring within them, coupled with a fair bit of anger. She sits straight up on her sofa, but I dare not touch her as her temper is so suddenly sparked and explodes.

"You sent him to Hyrule?!" She shrieks at me, "Nayru, how _could_ you? He can't go there, and certainly not alone! When did he leave? How long will he be there? Why didn't youaccompany—_Aye! Foolish girl!_" A pained expression crosses her face as she brings her hands up in front of her as though trying to grasp something out of reach. I watch in a stunned silence as she buries her face into those hands, and I simply cannot fathom a reason for her strange reactions; is it the babe?

"Miriam-" I stand and try to make my way to her again, touching her shoulders only to have the queen instantly flail around to stave off my attentions.

"_Don't touch me!_" She barks, well and truly enraged despite that momentary pause, her eyes flash at me behind the red fall of her hair, "Why are you still here? Go, girl, go! Leave! Do not stay here another instant!_ Guard!_" I balk at that,

"What are you doing!?" I cry, almost afraid as she interrupts me to call again for the guard who stands outside the chamber. "Miriam I didn't-" I'm only further cut off as the door to the salon abruptly swings open, and the thick stature of the hall guard appears in the doorway, javelin in hand. I feel my own temper beginning to rise up towards the frail queen before me, but I force it back down, the last thing can allow myself to do is grow angry.

"Escort the Oracle out into the village, she is leaving us and returning to her own time!" Miriam barks, causing the soldier to blink as it is well known that I am well acquainted with her. "And bring me my scribe! Now!" I feel myself stiffen in indignation; I know quite easily when I am not wanted, and say nothing more as the guard nods and looks to me expectantly, if not with a hint of accusation in his eyes. As though _I_were to blame for this!

I make to walk around the queen's seat before one of her cold, thin hands clasps around my wrist and jerks me back to her side. I'm forced to bend with the unexpected force of the pull, and feel her other hand come down on the side of my neck, keeping me in place as I staring into her Majesty's dark grey eyes. For all that the colour is different and there are ages between them, the forceful emotions behind the Queen's eyes echo the passion in Ralph's livid green set. That resemblance alone keeps me from instantly pulling back and away from her, my pride is bruised enough as it is without being tugged around by a frail woman.

"You will return to your time," She says firmly, her voice dropping down to a low murmur so that the guard may not overhear. "You will return to your time, and you will employ the fastest means of transportation to reach Hyrule. And when you have done that, girl, you will never leave my grandson's side again. Obey me, and _go_." I feel goaded by her tone of voice with me, humiliated in my stooped position at a raving woman's side, and that she speaks without reasons for her order does little to appease me. However, for all the harshness of her voice and words, as I stand so close to her there is a definite shimmer of fear in her deep, stormy eyes, and the anger which masks that fear is not truly for me.

"Where is my scribe?!" Her touch, too, betrays her in part as she abruptly shoves me away from her, flinging my wrist from her hand as though she were tossing a soiled rag. It is only the almost lingering touch at my neck which faintly tells me again that she is not mad at me specifically. That does not, of course, explain or excuse her.

As I straighten and make my way from the salon, out into the green-stone halls of the castle, I cannot understand her violent reaction to Ralph's current venture. I know that she told me that she was grateful that she had not herself married a Hylian lord, but as yet that has been the only mention of the land to which she has shown distaste.

Again, I feel a deep sense of insult as I review her pin-pointed instructions, and despite them, I feel no inclination to go rushing through the mountains to appear at Ralph's side. In any light, even if I left the moment I reappear in our age, I would not arrive in Hyrule until perhaps a day or two before Ralph is set to leave the Golden land on his own! And to make that date I would need a steed who runs as the wind itself, and ride endlessly through rain, shine, night, and day! Impossible! I may miss Ralph for all the time he has been gone since he left Labrynna, but I will not go gallivanting off across the continent when he already left me with duties back home!

The guard of course would know nothing of these issues, so although it is unlike me, I do not try to speak with him as he escorts me through the corridors towards the chamber I was granted. I enter the rooms without him, as I'm sure he'll perhaps rush off swiftly to summon the queen's scribe before I am through with my business. My chamber is one of the grander guest rooms within the palace, and I walk through the green and blue antechamber with hardly a pause to reach the bedroom, a bathroom branches off to the left as a true luxury, and a woven screen of gold vines and silk curtain sections off a corner of the room for changing.

Safe behind this screen although I doubt any maids will enter at this time, I strip off the warm fur-lined dress which has covered me from wrists to ankles since my arrival. The air within my chamber is cool since the fire died earlier, and there will be no need for it to be rekindled again today. I shiver slightly as I pull on the thinner garments I arrived with, my skin crawling with goose-flesh as the bands of yellow metal which hold up my half-sleeves are frightfully cold. The only pieces of jewelry which I am never without are the coiled bracelet and necklace around my left wrist and throat, which act as symbols of my position as Oracle. They are the only pieces of true gold I own.

I am grateful now for the cloak Blossom reminded me to bring, although I must say that it is far too thin for me as I fold it tightly around me to keep my teeth from chattering. I would fold the dress behind me as I normally do when leaving Lynna castle, but today I cannot be bothered to perform the ritual courtesy. When I open the door to the hall once again I find the same guard as before standing as he was, but the faint traces of red across his gruff cheeks tell me that I was correct in assuming he'd run off to carry out his Queen's orders.

I am hurt by her behavior. There is no sense in my trying to tell myself it was just the babe within her, or some sort of fear she cannot explain to me. I am hurt by how she so suddenly flew into a rage with me over something so small, how rudely I was ousted from her presence, and now how I am being removed from her own castle! The guard is blessedly respectful of my silence and angered mood, for the longer I stew over the details of my abrupt dismissal, the harder it becomes to contain my emotions.

As we reach the winter-locked gardens, I bite back a slight yelp as the snow is a shock to my sandaled feet once more. I bite down on my lip as I continue to walk, wary of patches of ice as the walkways have been shoveled repeatedly, but there are too many curved patches of frozen white for wood and metal to scrape away.

When we reach the gates, the guard who has escorted me thus far speaks roughly and shortly to his companions who are on duty at the entrance. If anything is said to me, I do not respond as I don't want to hear it just now, and I promptly dismiss any lessons from my girlhood which strictly prohibited ignoring the voices of others.

Once the gates rattle open, I am no longer in need of an escort, and do not look to any of the guards as I swiftly move through the barrier before it is even open completely. I risk taking a horrible fall down the snow covered stairs as I move more quickly than I ought to, but I'm near desperate to be out of sight at the moment.

The nerve of her, I'm surprised to find these thoughts flying through my mind as I shiver under my thin cloak, my feet growing numb in the snow as I walk. The _nerve_ of the Queen to treat me this way. I do not think myself an overly proud woman, I have my dignity and my position, but I like to think that I do not flaunt my rank to others. And although I will not preach it, I do expect a certain level of respect and courtesy. That she would treat me like this over something so small when we are supposed to be _good _friends is utterly beyond my understanding.

At last, I can take it no more, my feet are frozen and my hands are numb, the hem of my cloak and skirt are slowly growing wet as an icy wind causes my teeth to chatter unbidden. The village way is clear now; slopped homes of wood and stone are oddly quiet as they line roughly cobbled streets despite it being mid-day. I draw the mantel of my hood up over my hair and face as I walk, keeping the cold air from my cheeks and hiding my surely livid eyes. I at last take advantage of the quiet to finally rid myself of this chill weather.

Looking up towards the gray clouds piled high overhead, I force myself to clear my mind of these angered thoughts and hurt emotions. I require calm now, calm and quiet until I can make the music to carry me home. If I am honestly expected to charge across the continent to Hyrule, then Queen Ambi is to be disappointed for I shall do no such thing.

Although I am reluctant to submit to the cold, I open my cloak so that I may extend one hand into the wind as it comes to me. Suppressing a shiver, I know that soon I will be embraced with the warmth of spring and early summer, and am contented by that knowledge. The wind seems almost to curl around my fingertips, gently combing through my hair over my ears before whispering to me silently. Slowly, softly, I begin to hear a song… and I sing.

All of my worries and troubles fade as my voice slowly filters into the air around me, forming that same bubble of frozen time about my person to still the winds in my palm. The song however, remains in my mind, and I carry the melody gently. Closing my eyes, the sweet sound of nature and the endless winds lift my heart and I feel a rush of warmth through my being. I am reminded of the time which I am returning to, and suppress the urge to jump ahead to a number of weeks farther than the date I will be stopping at. A pair of green eyes under a mop of unruly red hair beckons for that jump through seasons and time, near the latter half of summer when he will return. But, I know my place, and seeing Ralph again shall have to wait a few weeks more…

The familiar weight of the Harp of Ages forms slowly against the inside of my right arm, the hand which was extended towards the wind. Already, the cold of the season has faded from my mind and body, and I am as one floating in the song of the world frozen around me. A smile gracing my lips as the flow of ages carries me forward…

To the future… home.

My fingers grace the golden threads of the harp shyly at first, wary as always of the dangers of my craft. But soon, I am further lost in the magic of the melody, and the sun and moon begin their dance, draping the world in an endless twilight as the days blow past me. Buildings rise, sway, fall, and are rebuilt. The river swells and deepens, widening and altering its course. Cobble, dirt, slate, cobble; the road shimmers below my sandaled feet like the flowing waters of a clear brook. Home, I'm going ho-

_Why!? _

Violent, like a slap to the face, I choke over the wordless melody of my song, startled nearly into halting my fingers across the string.

_Why!? Tell me why!!_

A voice, my fingers slow on the strings, but continue to stroke them softly. The seasons slowing their blur of pale greens and golden yellows so that I can clearly distinguish spring leading to summer, to fall, to winter, and once again the emergence of new growth… I can hear a voice; an anomaly I have never yet experienced in my time as Oracle. Someone… the voice of someone… calling across time itself…?

_No! Stop it! This isn't right, don't show me- NO! _

Slowing, slowing, my passage through time is winding down, and I am vaguely aware of myself passing the time where I belong, my home, and continuing forwards listlessly. My eyes are turned to the west, far to the west and the south, the blur of twilight slowly gains contrast, the days and the nights forming before me while my gaze continues to wander the horizon. A soul… a lost soul forced into life apart from its' other halves and pieces. Its cry is so undeniably… sad…

_Stop it! Stop, stop, just _STOP!_ St-Nayru, __**please! **_

My name, be it a cry to me or to the Goddess with whom I share that name, I cannot tell, and I don't know if I shall ever find the answer to it. My fingers do not simply end the song, but they stop in the most horrible way. I catch one of the golden strings out of turn, giving it a sharp pluck while thinking it a different note. In return, I scream as hot fire races up my hand from the contact, as though a thin strip of metal were lashed across my skin.

No.

I swiftly make to correct my mistake, my fingers flying to the strings only to have the Harp nearly pull itself from my grasp. It will not have me abusing it, and shrinks from my touch forcing me to halt my attempts. My heart leaps into my throat as the blur of days and swirling seasons is abruptly beyond my grasp and control. The twilit blur of seasons swirls around me beyond reason so that I can hardly even tell whether I am moving forwards, backwards, or anywhere at all. I cannot sing nor hum it into order again; my scream has already shattered the melody.

Paradox…

All I can do is hold the instrument to me and wait for this wild ride to end, wait for the echoes of my sour note and frightened shriek to fade before walking through time again and correcting the damage caused by my carelessness. It is mistakes such as these which may alter the flow against what the gods designed to take place. An Oracle who alters time for their own needs is swiftly struck down and replaced, and I have more than enough respect for the power of the gods. An Oracle who is sloppy and careless is likewise quickly dispatched.

The voice through time is gone now, lost in the twisting swirls of Time's Flow and I feel a sadness abruptly well up within me, warring with my sudden anger at myself for spoiling things so. A striking pain enters my skull, throbbing through my temples to make my eyes water. Just a little bit longer…

A little longer until what I wonder? One word echoes through my mind over and over again as I tightly shut my eyes to block out the consuming twilight around me. Summer, winter, day, night, young, old... Time swirls around me in an angered whirlpool, and my heart pounding furiously within my throat as I try to calm my raging panic. Only once before have I been caught in Time's Flow this way, and I can only pray that my luck shall hold true again and I shall not be forced into some sort of twisted reality. A paradox...

Slowly, oh so slightly, the ripples around me begin to calm, and I fall to my knees with the harp clutched against my chest. There is no blood running down my hands from the pain the instrument inflicted upon me, although the scolding it gave for my mistake is still soundly felt. As the days finally slow, and I find myself sitting in a pool of frozen moonlight, I wet my lips before preparing to bring down the barrier around me. My hood fell at a moment within the swirling time, and I'm not surprised to find it so as I pull it back up over my face once more. There is little left to do save stop now, step out into the flow of time again, and regain my composure before trying anything more with the Harp or my abilities. Blossom will have to forgive me a few more days still.

I keep my harp with me this time, and it does not fight my touch any longer as the low hum of summer time insects fills the air slowly. I am suddenly very cold despite the warmth of the season however. I am within Lynna, but be it city or village, I cannot tell, and that has little to do with the current time of night. I feel... blind...

As Oracle, I am blessed with two forms of sight, I see the world around me as others do, the physical realm which time holds and alters as it flows as a stream confined by pebble and soil. Another sight however, is one that I have few words for, but many ideas concerning. I have a keen knowledge of the near past and present, able to see through disagreements to find their past causes with little instruction as to the situation to begin with, and the ability to foresee both triumphs and troubles days, weeks, sometimes even months in advance.

But here, now, I feel blind... I feel robbed of a sight which is mine by right of office. I rise to my feet in the empty thorough fair, and know nothing of what is before me. Nothing aside from what five senses, not six, can tell me.

There is smoke in the air; harsh, acrid smoke which forms a hazy shadow in the moonlight. It carries with it the smell of charred stone, rusted metal, and burnt timber. The street itself is dirty, in a manner similar to Lynna village of Queen Ambri's age during the dark time when she was no longer in control of her own land; the streets are littered with trash, and clods of dirt stick to the sides of buildings as leeches. The city is a sad sight...

Still holding my harp in my arms although I shall not be able to use it again so soon, I wander the quiet roads of the city. When I reach the main street which once led to the front gates of Lynna Castle, and branches off to the east towards the Maku tree, I find it maintained, but as dirty as the rest of the city. Following it to the east, I know the one person who in any age I can seek clarification from, and yet even before I reach her, I find a hint as to the time I have entered into, and it frightens me.

When Link saved Labrynna years ago from Veran and then the witches Twinrova, the people of the Past and the Present together built a statue in his honor, and it was erected in the square before the Maku Tree's massive gates. In the silver moonlight, the haze of smoke is neigh invisible to me now, so clearly I have moved farther from whatever the source was. Without that haze I am able to make out the gates to the Maku Tree's Sanctuary, and the place where that honorary statue stood.

Stood, because now it is no longer raised in tribute. Lying on its side, the statue of soft, pearly blue stone carved from the coastal cliffs is in shambles. It stood once with one arm raised lifting a sword made to resemble the mighty blade which appeared in Lynna when the Hero of Time was in his greatest need against the wild incarnation of the Dark King; Ganondorf. Along the statues' right arm he held a shield emblazoned with Labrynna's Royal symbol, altered to my liking and then adopted as Ralph's crest.

Now, that raised arm is missing, the glorified features of the boy-hero scratched off by some manner of blade as large chunks of torso, legs and shoulders are gone. I hurriedly make my way towards it, wary of the harp still as I kneel next to the statue. Yes, these chunks are not wear-and-tear, although by now the damage has indeed been softened by the elements, this statue was toppled in a violent display, beaten, and left laying in piles of its own chippings.

I look to the stand which remains in its' place, although the massive bolts which pegged it down have been loosened, and it is clear that whatever crowd was present jarred it on a hard angle before abandoning it to continue attacking the statue. The plaques on each side of the pedestal have been abused as Link's face; each of the words scratched and beaten from sight, even his name is gone now.

"Where am I?" I whisper softly into the night, before I rise and look towards the Maku Tree's gates. A cold, sick feeling began to form in my stomach when I saw the statue toppled, and it increases tenfold as I look now towards what has become of Labrynna's guardian. Massive doors of living wood, carved with symbols of protection, well wishes, blessings, and incantations adorn the massive barriers which rarely -if ever- have closed in my time unless some great danger or injustice has hovered in the near future. Any force may physically close the gates, but only the Maku Tree herself, with her will focused on moving ancient roots and branches, may form an utter wall to keep herself safe as she has done now.

I stand in the moonlight for a time more, sighing at last as I find myself with few alternatives. If I am in the future, then I might as well seek one of the only other landmarks I expect is still standing and hopefully not barred off. I begin slowly to walk back along this branch of the main road, moving west towards the river which runs through Lynna and towards what in my time is little more than a scattered build site.

Oh, but I am blind without my sight! I cannot explain why it is gone from me, but the consequences of it, the lack of that foresight and warning; I do not feel safe without it. And I am not without good reason for that awareness either.

The sound comes to me slowly, although not softly. It is the rhythmic _chink-chink-chink_ of metal clattering, lots of metal. I pause in my steps, listening to the sound as it begins to grow stronger, and through the darkness of the night a shape begins to form. There are no torches alight for me to see by, and I rely on the moon above to make things clear; the reflection of silver moonlight on burnished helms and chest plates. A troop of soldiers headed towards me along the road, jogging at a light pace but with strict regularity which boasts discipline.

I move towards the side of the street so as to avoid being in their way. All the while however I stand hoping that they will notice me and be able offer me a bit of assistance. I still have the Harp of Ages with me, tucked up against my side within the folds of my cloak so as to avoid calling attention to it. As they near me, still in ranks of three by six, they do indeed make to halt, but I notice something... odd... about their armor. It doesn't remind me of any style used in Labrynnia before, it looks almost-

"You, what business have you to be out so late? And hiding in the shadows no less!" One of the soldiers calls, and I ignore for now that slight nagging as I make sure I'm still well within the moonlight, disproving his comment about shadows, but not removing my hood in the process. Somehow, the presence of eighteen fully armored and armed guards does not sit well with me, such a large force to patrol city streets in the dead of night...

"Good sirs, I am a traveler." I reply, aware of the series of looks which flash through the men as I speak, and I pause to wet my lips. There is no need to suddenly announce myself as Oracle now when I cannot truly prove it; I am too weary for the Harp, and without my sight, fortune-telling is beyond me. "Is there not an inn somewhere to which you could dire-"

"Traveler? From whence?" That seems strange to me, his choice of words, formal as opposed to casual, it's almost as though he's trying to see if he can confuse me with the cultured word. I wonder again just how far within the future I have come... What is more, I feel a deep sense of unease build up within me. These men, they seem so... hostile... their gazes linger in a ways which tempt me to draw my cloak in closer around me, and they just seem... dangerous. From habit, I answer with him the name of my childhood home, but the words are slow in coming. Despite an end to their march, they seem to be fanning out almost, effectively having broken their ranks almost as though they're trying to block the road...

"From... From Lynna woods." I say shyly, feeling cornered, and with good reason again as it was not my mind playing tricks; they _**are **_blocking the road! And I feel more than one set of shadowed eyes narrow upon me as I name my forest home, Oh, Din, where am I? "I'm from the- to-to the east." The bare instant the words pass my lips I wish them back to me, but to no avail. Like crimson flags waved in the eyes of wild bulls, my words set them off into a flurry of angered shouts and bare weapons.

"Rebel!"

"Arrest her!" I blink, and time feels almost as though it were slowing around me against my will. The soldiers rush towards as a charge of metal and leather as though I were some beast come to ravage the town. I'm stunned into a stupor by how my luck has taken me from bad to worse and now down another notch again! Jolted by a flash of terror as the men are already nearly upon me, I stumble backwards only to find my back up against the wall of a building. On instinct I pull the Harp from the folds of my cloak, holding it out in front of me and praying that the aquamarine stones and golden threads may catch the moonlight. Against twenty men it is my** only** protection.

"Stop! I am the Oracle!" I shut my eyes tightly as I scream out my title at them. It does nothing; I hear the resounding clatter of the Harp of Ages as it is soundly battered from my hands and onto the cobbles below, pain blossoming from my temple as I'm struck. I don't fight back, their blades are out but do not stab at me; I will not prompt them into action. I fall to the ground both from the force of the attack as well as to try and cover myself, screaming into the dirt below me only to lose my breath as a heavy boot comes straight into me from the side. Then comes another… and another… and another...

Darkness…

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	12. Chapter 12

**+1000 hits and +60 000 words! Yay ME!**

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**Matters of the State **

Chapter 12

Summer months always dawn sooner in Goron Mountains, the homes of my Brothers. We are the backbone of the continent, shielding the human lands from the unknown world far to the north. Today hard dusty stone surrounds me for many rolls, the air is warm and the smell of baked clay is full in the air enough to make a Brother's stomach rumble with anticipation.

"Hoy, Brother!" A call from above, reaching me over even the loud grinding of my hardened shoulders and backside as I loosen my hold on my knees, slowing my pace and allowing the world to right itself once more around me. Vast, brilliant blue skies extend over me as a dome crowning the deep red of the mountains, sharp in contrast to a Brother's eyes as I look about for the Brother who called me.

His sound finds me before my eyes do him; his leathery skin is red as the stone around him and the craters along my Brother's shoulders are black like shale. Rolling down a frail path through the unsmoothed trail, he stops a ways before me before unrolling, and a pair of sapphire Goron eyes look at me as his head is raised from between his knees. The marks of our people are painted with black onto his skin in sharp straight lines around his ankles, wrists, and across his belly as a belt. Half the size again of a human, he is taller than myself to be sure, but our girth is matched pound for pound; he is a healthy young Brother, that is for sure.

"Are you here to welcome me, Brother?" I ask, bringing one hand up to smack my left shoulder as a salute and greeting. I receive a similar gesture in return as the both of us begin to walk towards one another.

Humans are such silly creatures. When their leaders meet they hold grand ceremonies and displays, they give boring speeches and speak in riddles to one another, so that in the end no one gets what either one wants. Here and now, I go through the only ritual of sorts associated between Brothers. My red Brother and I embrace in a hard manner, and I feel some of my breath escape me as this young one has credible strength. Of course, this is always expected from a Holodrumite Brother.

"Brother Darunia, Brother Mousen and Brother Doca await you at Big Brother's plateau." My red Brother explains as we break apart from one another and walk together, his course altered now as I continue eastward as I have been for many days now. I look to him in surprise.

"Brother Mousen? Doca is your Patriarch in these lands who invites the Oracle of Seasons to his home each year instead of letting her dance in mine! But who is Mousen?" I ask, confused, and openly so. I will not be as a silly human, and hide what is plain.

"Mousen is the Brother chosen by Big Brother to oversee the Prince of Labrynna's new road through Goron Mountains." My guide tells me, and we stop walking for a short time as a pair of conveniently located rocks comes into view. Flat and in the full glare of the early summer sun, we recline back onto them and I allow the warm rays to ease some of the tired aches from my body. It is not as relaxing as the springs or lava bath back home on Death Mountain, but the sun is the same in any Goron City.

"Brother! Do not tell me I have been summoned here, away from that same Prince who now rests in Hyrule Castle, simply to speak of the road which he himself would have explained!" I exclaim, looking to my brother across the rocks from me, and seeing the weak look of apology resting within his deep, near violet gaze.

"No, Brother." He replies, shaking his head to me as he rolls onto his side and drops one hand out of sight on his rock. The sound of stone scraping against itself is dim behind him, and a moment later he lifts a thick –if small- slab of red stone up, examining it in both hands before lifting it to his nose to sniff, as though to gauge the quality. Satisfied, he breaks it into two fair pieces, and hands one to me. After three days and two nights of steady travel, I savor the aroma and smooth texture of fine red clay. It is only once I am nearly through this snack that my Brother speaks again.

"Mousen has unearthed something of great importance to the Prince, and wishes it taken to him at once. Big Brother too agrees with this plan." I nod at that then, Big Brother is most respected of all Goron Brothers, few Goron ever reach his massive size, and those who do are often confined to a single pass through the mountains following the spine of the continent. It is wide, deep, and large enough for Big Brother to be more than comfortable, and allows him blinding speed across the continent from Hyrule's Death Mountain to Labrynna's Rolling Ridge. Parts of the young Prince's road, I have heard, are said to run along Big Brother's Valley.

"But why does Big Brother simply not have it sent to Symmetry highlands instead, so it may await the Prince's return to his home?" I ask instead, heaving myself up into a sitting position. "Whoever is in charge in his stead should be able to keep it safe." I tilt myself around, looking around my own rock for another slab of the delicate clay so rarely found west of Holodrum's Goron Mountain. I am spared the task of lifting my seat to search out another serving as my Brother holds up another slab, and I laugh in thanks before accepting.

"That is what was suggested, Brother," I look back to my host as a sad, or perhaps, merely worried tone enters his voice, "But then a Brother from Labrynna, a Little Brother, rolled in on his way to deliver a message to the Prince." A frown now is added to my Brother's face, and I sit forwards, coaxing him to continue speaking.

"That Little Brother does not have the strength to continue his journey to Hyrule, but his message is too important to simply wait, and, as you know, Brother, no message is delivered faster than that given by a Goron." I nod at this, slapping my knee as a signal to be getting up and keeping myself from looking around once more for a bit to eat. I stuff the last few bits of clay into my mouth, swirling about my tongue appreciatively before swallowing and standing.

"Come then, Brother," I say simply, watching as my red brother is swifter of body than I am to rise from his seat. "Take me to Big Brother's plateau, I am eager to see what it is Mousen has found, and curious about this message."

We Goron are peculiar as to what we decide both what and what not to eat, and I am highly appreciative of my Brother's hospitality in sharing some of his land's bounty with me. The red clay of Labrynna is only scantly found in Hollodrum, and is coveted by both Humans and Gorons, although for different reasons. Humans find that it makes the most lovely of pottery for them, whereas Gorons alone know the true richness of its' flavour.

Such small portions for an old, hungry Goron such as I have already replenished nearly half and again my strength as I squat down on the uneven path before me. Ducking my head in between my knees, I feel my shoulders stiffen and pull out, a position which appears uncomfortable to most creatures such as Zora and Humans, but it quiet natural for my Brothers and I. Rocking back once so as to build a bit of momentum, a moment later I hear the rumble of my red Brother beginning to roll on ahead to lead me. I pitch forwards in time, following the sounds of grinding stone through the mountains, round sharp bends and loose turns. Onward and upward we go, and all the while I only ponder two very linear thoughts; when shall I again partake in the delicacies of my brothers, and what will Mousen and Big Brother ask of me?

Goron Brothers do not have the same need for our eyes when traveling as Human or Zora do. We feel the contours of the mountains and follow with our bodies without ever needing fear danger. Even a fall from this high ledge down into ravines and canyons would not hurt a Brother should he manage to lose his way. Our way of travel is also faster by far than horse or river, but it still takes my red brother and I hours still before we draw near our people's city within Goron Mountain, at the peak of which rests Big Brother's Plateau.

I do not stop nor look around as I continue to follow my red Brother through his fellow Goron as we reach the mountain, a massive city of my brothers where lava gurgles in every other cave. We pass from open air into warm caves, and I contently remind myself to take the time to lounge within their hot springs here before returning to Hyrule. All about me, although I cannot see them as I am, I hear Goron voices booming, laughing, and calling out to me in passing. Far to the south of us there is a human city known as Sunken, where buildings sit atop the water like tiny water insects, and where what clay which is not eaten by Hollodrum Brothers is sent down to potters. In the Human world, Sunken and the Labrynnian city of Symmetry have a fierce rivalry concerning their jars and ceramics.

At last we reach Big Brother's Plateau, the highest ridge atop Goron Mountain where Big Brother often comes to rest his chin and sun himself with his back facing the warmth during summer months. There are no steps as humans use leading up to Big Brother, but instead a well beaten trench which is occasionally dug into so as to always provide enough traction for even slower brothers to reach the top. I will admit to myself and any who ask that, yes, I do feel gratitude for this maintenance as I continue to follow my guide up the steep incline, and at last I reach the top.

By Human and Zora context, Big Brother's Plateau is barren and plain. A wide, rough circle of flat red stone is all that awaits climbers seeking to spend time with Big Brother. The view, however, is breathtaking as the day dies. A complete panoramic view of the Goron Range and its crimson mountains as far as the eye can see in any direction save for the south. To the South where Sunken City rests, the blue of the sky in mid-day bleeds into the faint green and blue of the rivers which spawn from the city center. It is a marvelous sight in any light, even in the darkness of night when there is only the moon and the stars.

"Brother Darunia! What prompt timing you have!" I pull my head from between my knees as I hear the familiar voice of the Hollodrum Patriarch calling to me. Standing once more, I look to the tiny Red Brother, his lips blackened with age as he is much older than I am. His markings are made of the straight lines as are those of all Hollodrum Brothers; my own marks are a constant swirl of red over my near-yellow hide. He grows feeble with his years as well, requiring now a thickly gnarled cane of wood to steady himself as he stands, the evening twilight now descending upon us. The twilight is especially beautiful from the plateau, painting the mountains black as the sky is filled with golden reds.

"Brother Doca! Have you at last decided to allow the Oracle of Seasons to visit my home this winter, instead of hogging her as you always do?" I call to the older brother, bringing my hand up and smacking my left shoulder twice to salute him as I walk up to where the smaller Goron laughs shrewdly at the jest.

"I am pleased to see you well, Big Brother." I turn to look into the massive lavender eyes of Big Brother where his chin rests against the plateau edge and earning a smile from him as wide across as his massive face. Big Brother is a Goron of few words, but his expressions often speak for him. Were Doca to stand on my shoulders we would only come half-way up the side of his head, Big Brother is a personification of what all Goron should be; wary of all others around them, accommodating for their needs, and above all, slow to anger at any insult.

"And you, Brother, you must be Mousen, yes?" I ask, turning to the final Brother before me atop the plateau, my Guide has already returned down below. The pale brown form of Brother Mousen nods to me, red markings dancing across his belly as behind him stands a large stone casing, as tall as I and marked with symbols I do not recognize.

"Brother Darunia, we Goron in the Far East hear much about you from our Hollodrum brothers." We both raise our hands and slap our shoulders in salute to one another, and I at last simply settle myself onto the ground, ready to speak.

"Well then, Brothers, what business have we to discuss?" I ask, watching as Doca follows my lead and sits his old, shaking frame down on the solid stone beneath us. Mousen remains standing, and Big Brother gives the slightest inclination of his massive head, a nod to our Eastern Brother to speak.

"Brothers, this was found buried into the bedrock where the Human Prince's road is being built." Mousen explains, lifting one long, thick-fingered hand up and touching the slate-colored monument. "It was dumped into the river which once flowed that way many years ago, when Big Brother was still very small. It bears the symbol of ancient Labrynna royalty." I yawn, and then pound one hand on the stone before me.

"Brother! I am not here for a history lesson, if it is for Labrynnian Royalty then why was it not taken to Lynna in Labrynna? I was called away from meeting the young Prince because of this!" I see now who Mousen is. He is one of our slower brothers, more focused as Humans are on the mind than on strength. My Brother in Hryule court, Cor Doma, is much the same. They are valuable Goron who grow wise of the world and offer valuable insight, but they often speak too much for my taste.

"Because this case, Brother, says in Goron words_; 'When I am found, Brother, take my heart to Lynna's Prince.'_" Mousen looks to me as though his reading the faded words carved onto his precious box are important to me, in truth, they hold little value.

"We will not deny an ancient Brother." This voice startles me before I realize the low rumbling in the stone beneath me is caused by Big Brother's voice. His thick, stone-like lips mouth the words slowly, and his voice is so deep and mellow it is as though Din's world were speaking through him. I rise, and nod to him.

"Very well then, give me its' heart." I say, walking towards the casement as the instructions seem simple enough. Mousen moves from my way as I approach the massive stone box, and I see him shift his weight uneasily as I bend down and roughly grip the bottom edges of the monument. I grunt at the solid build of it, but soon enough it begins to rise. I sway to one side a bit as one must when practicing sumo, and learning to throw a large opponent, before I turn on one foot and haul the casement to the side and through the air.

I nearly over-throw the distance, the bulk of the human relic does not shatter as I expected it to; it is nearly solid stone it seems and a large crack opens up across its black girth. Mousen has his fingers prying into this crack before I can decide whether or not to simply throw it again. His strength is admirable of course, as he is younger than I, and the two halves of the casing tumble sideways a moment later to reveal a small inner compartment which was sealed shut. Reaching into this hollow, he stands a moment later with a black stone box which fits easily between his massive hands. It too bears the marks which adorned the outer shell.

"This is only one half of why you were called here, Brother." Mousen says, coming up to and handing the box to me as I understand that this is the heart, given that it was within the center of the large stone block. I look over it absently, but say nothing of breaking this as well since there is a small latch and I assume a locking mechanism which the Prince will likely want to open on his own.

I feel a heavy sense of oppression come down over the plateau as I stop looking over the box. Big Brother's lavender eyes are closed now, and Brother Doca is looking out across the panoramic view of his Red Goron Range as though lost in thought. I set the box down at my feet before crossing my thick arms over my chest, looking to Brother Mousen as he is clearly the one who will be telling me the rest.

"The young brother from your mountain, I am to take his message as well?" I ask, and I am not as proud as a Human. Already am I on my way to Hyrule Castle, although this was a grand detour which sent me rolling in the opposite direction of the castle to begin with. Humans would have sent those below them in rank to accept these messages, but then the information would need to be transferred over to their leader again before it could be properly used. One story is never the same after each telling and retelling of it, and I am sure that the fewer mouths through which this information must pass before it reaches the Labrynnian Prince, the better for us all.

"The message is a simple one, Brother Darunia. The people of Labrynna as a whole pine for the return of their Prince; the Oracle of Ages has vanished."

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My head pounds, and my tongue feels fused to the roof of my mouth, which itself fills me with the keen sense of sand clogging it fully. My shoulders ache, and I can hardly move from where I lay. All is dark around me, a few, unstable rays of red candlelight flicker across the stone wall before me as I crack my eyes open. Somewhere in the darkness which surrounds me there is the far off sound of water dripping.

I lift my head slowly from where it rests on a cold stone floor, and I try to see where I am only to have a sharp pain pierce my skull again and force me back down. I try to roll over onto my other side, wanting to keep my shoulder from cramping as it now threatens, but I find now that I cannot. My arms behind me are bound together at the wrists by something thick and course, a length of poor-quality rope, or a rusty chain, I can't be sure. The feeling in my fingers is nearly gone; I flex them only to make sure they're still there.

Aye, my sight, where are you? I feel so lost without it, had I known where I was and the state of this land which cannot be mine own, would I have run from the soldiers instead of introducing myself like a fool? What foresight have I not to know when to hide and when to stand in plain view? None it seems. I force my lips to part without sound, running my tongue sluggishly along the inside of my mouth, taking inventory of my teeth and finding them all still accounted for. The taste of copper is thick across my lips however, and I cough slightly before spitting once onto the stone floor.

A cell, I am within a cell. I'm somewhere dark, somewhere dank, in a place which is cold and filthy and without a single familiar face to tell me what sort of nightmare I have stumbled unto. I stifle a shriek as I move on the floor, and my face abruptly brushes against something cold, wet, and furry. It brings my attention away from laments over my lost vision, banishing any thoughts of my misfortune swiftly as I fight back against a scream of disgust.

It pains me, but to simply lie in this foul-smelling place is something I will not allow myself to continue with. My ankles are not bound as my wrists, and I am careful not to tear my skirt as I awkwardly try to lever myself up into a kneeling position. With arms behind me this is made all the more difficult, and I first balance my weight upon knees and one shoulder before finally swaying backwards onto my haunches.

My efforts, fittingly enough, are rewarded. I hear footsteps beyond the shadowed door I assume to be what holds the slim barred window of my cell. That window is a crimson beacon in the otherwise pitch interior of my prison, and I look towards it with unabashed hope as the tapping of shoes, multiple pairs, reaches my ears.

"Open it." A man's voice orders, chillingly indifferent as there is movement beyond the door, the sound of keys jingling in the corridor, metal tumblers falling into place, and finally the grunt of wood and metal scraping against stone to throw that door open. I'm momentarily blinded by the light which floods onto me, revealing my soiled, beaten form where I sit here in the darkness. It takes me only a few breaths to note however that the light beyond my cell is little better than what I was experiencing within it.

Whoever stands before me is silhouetted by the torch-light held by a plain looking young man behind him, a servant of some sort with a golden pendant around his neck in the shape of an eye. Of the man in front of him, the one who ordered the door open, I can see nothing of, save the pointed shadows of his ears, and the shine of his well-combed hair.

"So, this is the fabled Oracle of Ages?" The man before me asks, looking off to the sides of the doors where I assume guards are standing. Whatever message he conveys is lost to me, and a moment later he takes the torch from his servant and steps into my cell.

I see now two things; the pitifully small size of my cell, hardly enough room across for me to lie flat, and only just high enough to keep the man before me from stooping under the low roof. Bits of soiled straw, the source I would assume of many of the foul smells within this tiny chamber, litter the floor and are piled into one corner.

I also see him however. His face, sharp, well-bred angles, smoothly shaped lips which are quirked upwards in a slight smile. His clothing is also very fine, a long tunic whose colour is lost in the shadows and firelight, embroidered along one edge with gold thread. Well-polished boots with sleek lines shine in the flickering light. His hair is as his tunic in that I cannot tell its' shade, although by how the fire catches it, I can assume that he's fair. It is somewhat long and is tied behind his head in a small tail. In truth, yes, this man is quiet handsome, and his features tell me he is kind in some way, but…

His eyes betray all of those suggestions. Cold, burning eyes of an unparalleled green, they nearly glow within his face as he looks over my less than appealing form; causing me to stiffen in indignation. Those eyes are hungry, greedy and cold.

"Who are you?" I ask, but am shocked by my own voice, it sounds so gruff, so dry and rumbling to me, barely a sound above a harsh breath. A weak pain slowly circles my throat as well as I try to clear whatever may be blocking my airway, but there is nothing there. My throat feels so… raw. He merely smiles at me, and that glow within emerald depths is increased ever so slightly, whether in amusement at my state or my question, I don't want to know.

"Perhaps you are the Oracle then after all." He comments slyly, ignoring my question as he kneels down to be on my level. One gloved hand with lace spilling over the back of it from his shirt comes towards me, making to grasp my chin. I straighten further so as to show him I will not tolerate being reviewed as some sort of slave or horse. His smile merely grows.

"It is said that years ago, you would have been Princess of this land… It broke the hearts of many when the Oracle never reappeared after the Prince died, perhaps this is why?"

"Who are you, and what Prince do you speak of?" I demand, quelling the flutter of emotion which started up within my stomach at the mention of a prince's death. This man's answering chuckle is high and annoyingly unpleasant to my ears, and I keep from flinching as this time he reaches out and manages to snatch up my chin between his long, slender fingers, unblemished with the calluses of hard work and labour. His head leans in towards me as he holds the torch off to one side, his green eyes level with mine as he won't allow me to pull back. I simply stare boldly into his gaze, as defiant as possible in my position.

"I speak of a man dead some thirty winters, Oracle. The first Prince of this filthy land in nearly two hundred years, descended from an arrogant household and who finally allowed my father to begin re-establishing our family in its' rightful position." Those cold, greedy eyes, they hold a passion in them unseen until he began to speak. Like hungry flames, emotions begin to flicker behind his iri; powerful, frightening fire.

"You're Hylian." I choke, the image of the Hylian Royal crest coming to me from memory, how it blazed in the moonlight across the breast of each soldier who came at me in the street. What right have the Hylian people in Labrynna?

"Aye, and you are the little witch my father always regretted never having found so as to assure our success, and now I have you here, and your lovely little trinkets, Oracle." For a moment I know not of what he means by this, but the next his hand abruptly moves from my chin and his one-handed grip is abruptly around my neck, and I feel my eyes widen before narrowing in deep insult.

"Trinkets hold no bearing on ability." I say with as much force as my sore, burning throat can muster, his touch is as ice even with his gloves keeping the contact from being complete. My golden necklace is gone and I can assume the same of my bracelet; two symbols of my office.

"Segev. Show the Lady Oracle." My eyes dart past the man as he continues to hold both the torch and me, movement behind him from the servant catches my attention, and I fight back an outraged hiss as the swirling frame of the Harp of Ages appears between his hands. The man laughs and I notice a dark smile tug at the edges of his servant's mouth, that eye hanging from his throat taunts me in the torchlight, as though I've seen it before, only different, and somewhere else.

"Hear me, Oracle. For the future is mine to tell." I find myself once more staring into those burning green eyes, feeling cold inside as I had hoped silently that the harp had vanished when it left my grasp, or that it would not tolerate being held by anyone but myself. The voice of my captor shatters my thoughts however, he pulls me closer to him until I am nearly unbalanced, and I resist the urge to flinch from him as his breath hisses into my ear.

"My cousin shall be King of Hryule when the Queen passes, and when he ascends the throne, I, Mathias, son of the Lord-Regent Salvin, shall deliver to him the territory of Labrynna with silver ribbon tied about it. And you, Oracle…" Again, a chuckle, deep within his chest with that same high-pitched whittle to it which aggravates my sensitive ears,

"When all is said and done, and you have watched it come to pass… you will hang."

* * *

"Are those the bells?"

"…Yes."

"They sound different…"

"They are Farore's bells."

"Why do they ring?" I look away from the stained red and white window of His Majesty's chamber to glance at him; I swiftly rose from my seat across the board from him when I heard the first deep, mournful tolls of far off bells. Only rarely have I heard something sound so… forlorn.

"You should retire to your chambers, Young Prince." The King responds, and I move towards him as he levers himself out of his chair and looks towards one of the windows as well. "Tonight will be an evening of prayer for my household and I. I know you are of a different land, but do try to ask the gods to give the Hero strength on his journey." I swallow hard at that.

"Journey?" I ask, "You mean, Link is being-"

"Summoned. Yes, the Hero of Time is being summoned by the Gods to the Temple of Time. The bells will stop ringing when he departs, and will not toll again until his return. You are excused." I swallow again, feeling a knot of apprehension form in the pit of my stomach. Oddly enough, it isn't Link who I first think of, but rather a swift hope that whatever he's being called away for has nothing to do with Labrynna. And that, frankly, just confuses me, why would I think something like that? My— no, _the_ people of Labrynna can handle themselves just fine.

Damn it, _my_ people? I suppress a shudder at the strange thought, similar to the chills I keep getting whenever I go out with my guards around me, and end up referring to them as mine. By Fire it's just strange!

The King wets his lips behind his beard as I fail to suppress a second shudder as my thoughts couple with the deep tolling of the distant bells. I perform my bow to him swiftly so as not to intrude on his time any longer, only to be stopped with my hand on the doorknob.

"Ralph." The King says, and I pause and turn to look at him again where he stands, robbed in deep blue still as a tribute to the Zora party who are comfortably settled into the Water Corridor levels below us. His eyes hold something hidden in them, and I turn completely to face him as I allow him a chance to gather his thoughts. This is the first time I've heard him use just my name.

"I know you must be worried about the Hero, you are both good friends I have heard. But we must have faith in his abilities, as I certainly have faith in yours. You seem to be adapting to your new station in life quiet well. I am…" He pauses, and I watch again as he takes a breath. He purses his lips momentarily, clearly changing what he was going to say, although I don't know how I can pick up on that.

"I am happy that my daughter has found a friend in you." I smile at that, trying to ignore the deep, longing cries of the bells still blaring outside. How loud they must be within the temple…

"Thank you, Majesty, perhaps something real may come about of it." I bow to him respectfully, before exiting his chambers and walking out into the hall. I nod to his guards and then continue through the corridors of the castle to find my way back to my own chambers.

Something real, of course, is the final agreement which I've yet to place before the King, it isn't something that needs to go to bargaining, at least not in terms of wealth and goods; this one is strictly political. Any fool with their eyes closed can see that of three the nations, Hyrule is the most militarily capable, and even with Hollodrum as a buffer, and mountains all around the three of us, they're still one of the most powerful realms in the known world.

What I want is something my grandmother and her dynasty had; Peace Treaties with Hyule and Hollodrum to make sure no wars ever break out. Hyrule is not the most stable of all countries despite being the strongest, His Majesty himself came to his throne through a rebellion years ago, and although he's clearly well-loved by his people, and his court as far as I have seen is more than loyal to him, I won't feel quiet at ease on my own until those ancient treaties are restored.

Am I an idiot? Maybe. I haven't told anyone here about wanting this sort of treaty. So if Ferran and Percy know anything it's only a very vague understanding, the only person I've really confided in at all about wanting treaties for peace is Nayru, and she encouraged me greatly to follow through with this. Sometimes, well, most of the time, I regret not having her here with me in Hyrule. If she's seen the castle before she's never told me about it, and I'm sure she'd enjoy looking through the histories in their expansive library.

Thoughts of Nayru bring back that same nervous feeling in my stomach that the bells awoke. I can't help worrying about Labrynna now, and it's so unusual for me to feel this way. Just because there's some darkness awakening somewhere in the world doesn't mean that it's going to have anything at all to do with her or Labrynna.

And Labrynna is not _**mine**_ either. It was my grandmother's, it was her grandfather's, Labrynna belonged to her family ages ago. But it doesn't belong to me now. I'm not the same as rulers like my grandmother and the King, I'm not aspiring for anything, I just want something stable for the lands I failed to help protect years ago when Veran emerged.

I want trade agreements so the people I couldn't help then can make a living off of the lands Link saved. I want peace for them and their children so that they don't ever have to live in fear again. They aren't _my_ people, it isn't _my_ land, it's Labrynna and **her** people, and they just happened to have chosen me to represent them. They've put me on a pedestal and I might as well dance until they grow bored of me; and I'm positive that soon enough, that is what will happen. After doing just fine for nearly two hundred years without a monarch, I certainly wouldn't want to suddenly be paying taxes into building some Lord a castle.

If only I'd just stop worrying about it as though it really _**were**_ mine.

* * *

**Gorons are fun to write for, I was going to have that part end sooner, but that would've meant having another installment with Darunia just sitting around talking, and I'd like to avoid making things longer than they need to be.**


	13. Chapter 13

**And, yes, AquaAdept, you are correct. I double-checked my Guide book before I started in on this chapter, and it IS Ambi, not Ambri, which is how I always read it. Sorry. Corrections have been made.**

**07-28-09: No, seriously _the corrections have been made._ **

**--**

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 13 

I wake with a violent start, blinking sleep from my eyes and wincing as I find myself staring straight up into the mid-day sunshine. Shutting my eyes tightly against the glare, I lever myself up onto my elbows, the smell of the earth under me is relaxing with the gurgle of the stream just before me, my fishing rod stuck into the dirt with its line cast for my lunch. All around me for many miles Hyrule field stretches, occasionally dotted with small forests and rocky terrain. At dawn one can see the very tips of Hyrule Castle from here if they know how and when to look. I hear a gruff breath behind me and tilt my head back to look into Epona's dark eyes. She dances about slightly, uninterested in the pasture about her as there's something keenly anxious about the mare's behavior.

"No… you didn't wake me up …" I mumble sluggishly, pushing myself up the rest of the way into a seated position as I yawn, and then wince slightly at a tight stinging sensation across my cheeks. Napping in the full glare of the summer sun; I should know better. There's no one around for quiet a ways, so I don't hesitate to just crawl towards the cool, clear waters of the river and splash my face a few times to both wake up and sooth the pain.

I check my fishing line and find it bare of any food, packing it up anyways despite my lack of lunch. It's collapsible, a unique design allows me to take the various lengths of the rod apart and tuck them safely into my saddle bags. I can't explain why, but the light feelings which have been accompanying me since I snuck out of the castle yesterday morning after Impa came to speak with me are gone now. I feel almost put down, and suddenly keen to be on my way back to the city.

"We're going, we're going." I grunt, having to walk along side Epona as she continues to dance and whicker at me. I get the feeling that we're making one another antsy, because as she dances away from me I grow tenser, and she begins to react to that with annoyed whinnies and gruff snorts. Grinding my teeth in frustration with her, I snatch up my sword from the grass and buckle it over my shoulder, likewise scooping my shield off the ground and hooking the handle over the straps across my back.

"Damn it, Epona! Let's just get to the Temple already!" I snap, roughly gripping the saddle horn and hoisting myself up in a well practiced manner. I don't settle into the leather seat, but put my weight on my feet as they hook into the stirrups so I won't be jolted too much. I'm right to be cautious as Epona abruptly breaks into a very sudden, very fast pace for herself without waiting for my command. If I hadn't been expecting it, I probably would've had my head snap back from the force of the large animal breaking into a rough canter and then a jaunty run. But I've known Epona since she was just a young filly, and I know what to expect from her.

But why the Temple? Why did I say that? I wanted to just tell her we were going home; I have what I was sent for, a fairy from one of the hidden springs for Timothy's arm. Why did the Temple come into things?

As I ride I find my eyes drifting down to my left hand where it's fisted into the reigns. I feel the glass jar on my belt bounce against my hip repeatedly with Epona's movements; the extremely annoyed fairy within occasionally gives a soft yelp from within the bottle, willing to help me but loathing confinement. I keep my horse from suddenly blazing into a gallop; I know how eager she is to be off at a dead run despite the distance between us and our destination, but I have to keep that distance in mind so I don't end up walking for the latter half of the journey.

Epona has always been like this with me, willing to run herself down to take me to my destination, especially when I don't know where exactly I'm even headed. She's mellowed in recent years, but I haven't had to deal with anything more alarming than Highwaymen or rowdy moblins for a long while. I feel a sick sense of foreboding form in my stomach, but don't try to alter her course as I slacken my hold on the reigns to allow for more speed. She knows the way well enough without needing me to constantly pay attention to every tilt and turn in the road.

The wind begins to whistle past my ears as I ride, leaning forwards in my saddle and glad that I didn't bring my green cap with me when I rode out, or else I'd have to either tuck it into my saddle bags or hold onto it with one hand as Epona's pace grows faster but remains below a gallop. In fact, I didn't even wear my green tunic out of the castle. Save for my shield and sword, were I to ride though any hamlet or thoroughfare as I am now, dressed in brown riding leathers, I'd look like nothing more than any other traveler. My sword proclaims me a swordsman, and the shield alone elevates me to the status of knight. It's difficult to convince someone in even the sleepiest of communities that the swordsman who may be a knight is most likely the Hero of Time as well, and this generally makes for much smoother travel.

I do my best to keep Epona from going too quickly even after I begin to feel her muscles limber up with the exercise, but there's a nagging sensation in the back of my mind as we continue on in the full sunlight. A sharp nattering that won't silence itself, and that I can't shake off even as I try listening to the rhythmic thumping of Epona's hooves over the turf and gravel of Hyrule Field. I can almost feel her impatience with me, she is the namesake of the Horse Spirit Epona; a lesser deity under the three Goddesses of the Triforce, and she rides with the speed to do that name justice. Even now, I know she's still holding back for me, waiting for me to let her run at her best.

I feel lighter than the air which whips past me as Epona continues to carry me over the rolling terrain, her hooves never faltering as I feel something spark in the back of my mind. My hands begin to go numb, and I gasp once before I hear something. It's low, and faded over the distance, but it strikes me as a blow between the eyes, stunning me as I sit up in my saddle, my eyes looking between Epona's ears as a flash of green which is not the trees nor the tall grass crosses my gaze.

Twice, and only twice before has this happened to me, I feel something probing into my mind that I can't see or really detect. A single image, one dredged up from my memories, fills my gaze before fading to show me the blurring road once more. Blue hair which shimmers as a clear spring brook frames a heart-shaped face, red lips quirked in a smile as sweet music fills the air. And then it's gone.

"Nayru..?" I whisper to myself, coming back to the present and hearing Epona give a low grunt from deep within her chest, like a question to me. Again, that deep, distant sound strikes me, even though there are still miles between myself and the Temple of Time. An Oracle and the Bells…

"Hyah!" I shout wordlessly, answering Epona's question as though she too could feel Farore's touch. My left hand burns with an invigorating if invisible energy as I touch my heels to Epona's flanks; not striking her, but giving her wordless permission to fulfill her wish; and she runs.

--

The Temple of Time has four sets of bells, although in truth many people outside the inner circles of the Temple and the Upper Nobility had forgotten the presence of one of these sets until only a few years ago. The first set are the normal bells, large and cast from iron which hang from the high steeples of the temple, and are rung by old cords pulled by members of the Temple Brotherhood. They are rung to announce the time, specifically the beginning and end of the city day.

The next set is Nayru's bells, small- about half a hand-span tall and small enough to pinch the clappers with two fingers- and made of silver, they fill the temple while hidden within the molding both in and outside of the building. When they ring they fill the air with the light chiming which reminds all who hear of the purity of rainfall. Often times they are rung on festival days, notably those during the spring and aumtumn seasons.

After Nayru's there are the larger bells of Din, which are copper-colored and of a similar size to the normal bells which ring in and out each day. The sound of Din's bells is melodiously low, and warm the listener in a way similar to a fire on a cold evening. Like Nayru's bell's, they ring in celebration, and are normally referred to as the Solstice bells because they normally only ring during the Summer and Winter Solstices'. Neither of these bell sets has cords, and ring only when the gods will them too.

Finally, there are Farore's bells; the nearly forgotten set which many wish would remain forever silent. The first time in living memory that they rang was the spring just before Ganondorf's Coup d'etat, in fact, they stopped ringing the morning before I turned to find a young boy dressed in green wander into my garden…

Farore's bells signal the distress of the Gods, and are massively huge. Made of a nameless sea-green metal the colour of which may either be a result of age or whatever they were made of, they hang within the very walls of the Temple. Five of them rest with the Master Sword's chamber, three more in the room before the Door of Time and suspended from the ceiling. They send a throbbing sense of foreboding through all who hear their low call, and are near deafening within the Temple itself.

My teeth chatter as I think on this, quelling the sick feeling within my stomach where I stand outside the massive wooden doors of the Temple of Time. Each low moan of the bells sends a shudder through me. This feeling is a result of many things, the sheer volume of the bells, the sad cry in their voices, but most importantly is their relation to Link.

My hair is hidden under a sheer lavender veil as is proper for women nearing or entering the Temple. I haven't been here very long, although it certainly didn't take me much time at all to arrive. The streets of Castle town are frighteningly silent and bare of all activity, each citizen holed up in their shops or homes, unwilling to emerge until the bells cease their mournful tolling.

Impa took my horse and hers off around a nearby corner; the noise of the bells even beyond the stone walls of the Temple was simply too much for the creatures too bare. Although there is a sufficient pause between each low call, a good twenty seconds for each individual chime to peal, I don't blame my people or the animals for wanting away from the sound. If I did not know better, I myself would fear the emergence from Ganondorf from the temple, cloaked in darkness and ready to plunder our land anew.

These bells worry me, deeply worry me. The three times the bells have rung in my lifetime, and I have had warning of some foul plot unfurling somewhere in the world through my dreams. But I have no such awareness now, no black dreams or nightmare which force me to wake in the night drenched in icy sweat. It worries me, and I pace restlessly before the doors, the pale lavender of my skirts swishing nervously as I fidget my hands endlessly, rubbing the back of my left one for a lack of anything better to do with them. I feel nothing from Nayru's gift within me, no warmth, no energy, nothing but this strange anxiety, and still the bells ring.

Finally, after what feels like hours pacing before the Temple steps, a new sound breaks through the endless pealing; the steady rhythm of shod horse hooves clattering down the empty boulevards of the city. Epona is as a blur of deep red as she gallops boldly into the expansive courtyard before the Temple gates, her rider reigning in hard and causing her to shriek once before pulling her front legs high into the air, kicking madly as her momentum is so abruptly dispelled. Even from where I stand, her eyes are bloodshot and sides heaving, white lather flecked across her chest from her mouth which hangs open around the bridle.

"Link!" I shout, hurrying forwards as he dismounts rather clumsily, leaning his head against Epona's saddle as though he's as tired as she. Something seems strange about him, and I hardly recognized him without the green of his tunic. His outfit is stained with travel dirt and grime, boot scuffed, forehead glistening with sweat as bow, quiver, and sword all clutter his back. But there's something… about the way he moves as I come up next to him, placing one hand on his arm, watching as he turns his head just enough to look at my hand without lifting his eyes before simply dropping his gaze down again to stare at the saddle and the cobbles between his boots. "Are you..." My words trail off as one of his gloved hand comes down on mine where it came to rest below his left shoulder, and I blink slightly as he turns towards me, the faintest after-image of green following his movements like an outline.

"You're already gone, aren't you?" I ask, feeling sad that I was unable to really say good bye as he looks at me, his expression blank of emotion, and his blue eyes covered in a thin film of green. I was not with him when the bells rang years ago to call him to the aid of the Oracles, but even without prior experience with him I can tell that his mind is lost at the moment, his body being pulled along by the will of the gods. Farore is directing her Hero into the Temple, pulling him away to take up her sword and fulfill her designs.

Well, maybe he isn't completely gone just yet…

"Don't look so sad, Princess." The hand not over mine comes up to touch my elbow, and I look at him in surprise as his lips quirk up in a kind smile. His eyes are still glazed, and seem to slide past me, but his voice still holds an air of lightheartedness, and his expression is warm. I can almost feel the anxiety running through him, different from mine which is bred from a nameless worry; he is impatient to answer the call of the gods, but keeps himself from running past me to do so. I take heart in that...

I'm used to being comforted by him, more so than I should be in my position, but it's true. When I'm worried or frustrated he always manages to appear and worm every little detail of my day out of me, and makes me laugh to take those worries off my mind. Whenever I begin to ride to high on my position, he's always standing just off to the side to privately trip me and keep me humble. And in return, I end up always cutting down his own ego when he becomes too lax with his etiquette, and find him busy-body jobs to perform around the castle when he becomes ready to chew through stones looking for something to do. And always, always in the late afternoon, we'll find ourselves in my garden, either with friends or just one another, and we'll talk until dinner of absolutely nothing at all... We keep one another sane.

With his hand on my elbow, I feel him pull me forwards until his arms circle me gently, and I shudder at another round of the pealing bells as I rest my face against his shoulder with my hands placed on his back. It isn't the sort of embrace shared between friends, I can tell myself it is, but that doesn't make it so. He's rushing off again for the first time in years into some fate unknown, beyond any form of sight or letter, and there is no guarantee at all that he will return.

It frightens me, the knowledge of him being made to rush off despite anything he may have to say against it. It plants a seed of cold loneliness within my stomach as deeply as the screaming bells fill me with impending dread. I want whatever final ounces of comfort I can find in him before he goes; and if it means being ignorant of the dirt and sweat staining his clothing and rubbing off on mine, so be it. If Impa chooses now to come around the corner and see me holding onto him like some stupid village girl, then let her.

"Walk with me," He says softly, and I can hear a low hum in the air amidst the deep cries of the bells. Our arms fall away from one another, but not before my hand has a chance to snake into his, and he threads his gloved fingers through mine. He absently strokes Epona's sweaty neck as we walk past her, and she gives a tired huff before turning and beginning to plod away from the Temple. She'll likely find her way back through the winding thoroughfare towards the castle gates, and I don't doubt that she'll be let in considering her saddle blanket and memorably patient nature.

We climb the stairs of the Temple silently; the massive doors already open by a small degree as we enter the first of the massive tributary chambers. Immediately, the sound of Farore's bells becomes nearly overpowering. Tilting one's head up, three of the massive chimes hang from the roof's spine, and if I'd allow myself to look now, I have no doubts that I would be able to see them swaying back and forth at an ominously slow pace. Their voices are so deep and saddening that I almost feel the need to buckle down from the weight of them. I grit my teeth instead, and notice the dark expression creeping over Link's sightless face.

The first chamber of the Temple has a large stone rendition of the golden Triforce hanging from the far wall over the tall red doors which lead deeper inside. Each side of the insignia is also coupled with the statue of a woman to represent each of the three goddesses. This room is lined on both sides with pews, and is where most people from the city pray.

The ancient pews are vacant of any citizens now though, instead only the stooped, hooded forms of the Temple Brotherhood are visible. Their low chanting adds to the eerie atmosphere of the bells high above. Not one of them shifts in the slightest as we make our way past their ranks.

Whether the doors at the end of the chamber part for Link as the Hero, or I as the Princess, I'm not sure. We enter now a short hallway which has two singular red doors on either side which lead off and around the Temple for the Brotherhood's purposes. Before us lies the deeper part of the sanctum where the upper classes come to show their devotion to the gods. The Royal family has our own private sanctum within the castle itself however, and the few times I've come here have been for ceremonies such as weddings and funerals.

This chamber is stunningly silent, even with the pealing of the bells all around us now, including the three massive chimes directly over our heads. Link and I move through the thick of it with our hands still clasped, the cries seeming to dim down into nothing more than a dull murmur in the background. My ears still flinch and my insides remain icy with all the emotion those bells carry on their voices, but this chamber is always so… calm.

Sunlight streams in through stained glass windows all around; causing the three racial gemstones to flicker as though they each hold an inner fire on the raised pedestal where they rest. The pedestal stands atop a small dais which is led to by a single strip of royal red carpet running from the doorway. This chamber is grand in size, spreading out wider and standing taller than the one before because of its uses which often entail larger crowds than the every day communion. In fact, there is even a balcony above us, although it only holds one row of seats, and often when it is full, the majority of people- normally of the lower nobility- are left standing. My attention now however momentarily drifts to the gemstones standing in the full sunlight.

As children, Link collected the three relics of the Hylian people at the request of myself and the former Great Deku Tree. The large sphere of the Kokiri Emerald, a thin branch from the Great Deku Tree coiled tightly about it rests in the middle of the three. The Zora Sapphire which is shaped as the crest of Zora royalty glitters to the right of the emerald, its three sparkling eyes held together by bands of pure gold. And on the far left, the Goron Ruby, shaped almost like that of a spiked footprint, and surrounded by a thin layer of diamond-hard black stone.

This, this is where I have to stop though. There is one more door before us, one which only the gods may choose to open. It is built into the wall of the Temple, the royal symbol resting in the center of what looks like nothing more than a door-shaped pattern. I cannot pass through the Door of Time, cannot approach the Master Sword where it stands waiting for its' chosen master to take it up and answer the call of the gods. Me, I must stay here.

Our hands fall from one another as I stand just within the doorway, he looks to me once, but that haze in his eyes hides whatever might lay within them. Slowly, he begins to make his way forwards, and I bite my tongue sharply before speaking.

"…Link." I say, although I'm unsure if my voice can even be heard now despite the eerie silence of this room; the loudest of the bells lie beyond the Door of Time, where a full five of them hang in the circular chamber surrounding the Master Sword's pedestal; a greater number than anywhere else in the Temple. In truth, if I ever were to try entering that chamber while the bells toll, I'd likely be knocked out by the force of the sound, and be made deaf as a result.

He says nothing, but stops and looks over his shoulder at me again. I feel short of breath, as though that deep anxiety within me is trying to smother me. My thoughts scatter for no tangible reason, and I croak out the first words which come to me,

"Go and earn your keep, Hero." I stutter, horrified at the choice of words when he is perhaps even now looking death in the face. I can do nothing at all but force a smile to make it appear as a jest, hoping it will raise his spirits in some way all the while I curse myself. And for all the sense it doesn't make, he smiles to me in return.

"It's the only reason you people keep me around, isn't it?"

"The only one, now go." I lift one gloved hand to wave him off dismissively, I don't know where I find the gall for the action, but I try and maintain that smile and pray he knows I can't very well think of anything else to do just now. An absurdly low bow is my reward, similar to those he gives me whenever we chide one another in the gardens, and I can almost take that as him saying he thinks no less of me for my poor words.

I say nothing more, fighting with myself as I drop my left hand and have it grip my right arm just over the elbow. The pose is both to try and appear as serious as I ought to, as well as to stave off the tremors running through me as he turns his back and begins to walk.

That aura of green which has captured his eyes and outline spreads as he continues to walk, his stride gaining purpose and direction as he does so, making each step more solid than the last. His shoulders straighten and without seeing his face I know it is forming a hard expression of loyalty for the causes he fights for. Had I the breath to call him again, I know that now he truly wouldn't hear me.

Link is a joker and a clown who wears his heart on his sleeve, but that heart is still that of a warrior, and my foolish friend is still fully capable of acting as is befitting his rank. It saddens me to know how his smiles will fade from him once he is gone, that he will become so mellow by comparison to his normal self, and that once again, he will be forced to shed blood. That idea alone seems alien to me, the knight chided most for his gentle hand has proven himself in times undone to be as accomplished a killer as any of his peers.

The Door of Time opens with a low grinding noise which is hardly audible over the deep moans of the bells, and beyond it I can see the single shaft of light which comes down from a hole in the temple ceiling. Link's form blocks the Master Sword from my sight, but I don't mind, I was more focused on him anyways. A hard lump forms in my throat as he strides into the shadow of the chamber, and I only just catch sight of him looking back once over his shoulder before the door begins to swing back into place. It just could be my imagination, but I see him smile ever-so-slightly before the stone wedges itself back into place.

The resulting silence is deafening. The final moaning calls of the bells echoes in my ears and the air itself as each of Farore's bells stills in mid-swing. Slowly, I can hear the dulled crank of ancient joints as each of the massive chimes rights itself where they hang from the ceilings, their momentum stolen from them, stilling all the bells within the Temple now, regardless of whether or not there are cords to try and sound them with.

Whether Link returns through that same door, astride a horse, on foot, or at all is something which cannot be predicted. The gods will take him to his destination with blinding speed, traversing time itself if need be. But returning home is of less importance to them, and whether they carry him back again with the Master Sword or leave him to find his own way back as he has on numerous occasions has yet to be seen.

"…Be careful." I choke, my eyes burning as I shut them against the dancing colours shining through the stained glass windows. I bring my hands up over my nose and mouth, releasing a shuddering breath into them before clasping them together and holding them just under my chin. My left hand tingles, sending pins and needles up my arm as shivers trail down my back.

Outside, I can hear the wind beginning to pick up, howling through the streets and causing the temple windows to rattle slightly in their frames. Higher and higher, green flickers through the air in the form of stripped leaves suddenly blistered from branches. Farore's eerie green aura dusts itself through the air as I know outside whatever clouds hang in the pale blue sky are slowly being drawn towards the Temple as they so often spiral about Death Mountain.

Slowly, I feel myself sinking to my knees, keeping my eyes tightly shut as that tingle in my hands begins to make the left one numb, a cold sensation spreading along the same paths as the pins before it. It's like being left to float in icy water for too long, the feeling slowly seeping from my limbs as my thoughts are as water; flowing free without the constraints of reason, losing themselves within one another before I can grasp the meanings of my own mind.

"Please, please be careful…"

I do not doubt now that within the castle where my father prays in our family sanctum he can feel what is happening here within the Temple. The gods are focusing their energy here, not descending unto the world, but instead reaching into it to pluck the Hero from his home and carry him away. The rattle of the windows rises to a loud clamoring, each of them beginning to shake and bulge with enough force to possibly shatter them.

I hear footsteps far behind me within the Temple's outer reaches, Link and I left the doors open as we passed them. And as the low chanting of the Brotherhood outside begins to rise in volume with the increasing furry of the winds, the footsteps become louder before coming to an abrupt halt in the doorway behind me.

A deep, earthen rumble far below is the final part of this summons. Rolling from deep within Din's earth, the sound comes from behind me and from all directions carries itself in towards the Master Sword's chamber. Almost instantly the winds are dispelled, and one final chorus from the Brotherhood in the chamber behind me leaves the world wrapped in complete silence.

I hear Ralph continuing to pant in the doorway, and feel tears streaming down my cheeks as I remain crumpled on my knees only a few paces before him. I know he gives me time to try and collect myself, that or he's in shock as to how suddenly all of this has come to pass, but I can't reign in my emotions, or still the tears.

"…Zelda." He says after the silence stretches for a while more, and I bite back a single offensive sob which claws its way up my throat. The dark Labyrnnian blue of his cloak enters the corner of my vision before he kneels down next to me, one hand resting on my back assuringly, and the other reaches out to hold mine as to offer me comfort. Neither of us has anything more to say.

--

"Majesty, the people are frightened." I say forcefully, curbing my tongue just slightly so as to keep the words from sounding commanding or disrespectful. Now is the most delicate stage of every plot and plan I have laid thus far, and I must be at my most cautious.

His Majesty stands before the alter of the Triforce a few yards before me, having finished his prayers in the lonely little sanctum which lies hidden within the castle. The bells have been silent for some hours now, and I refuse to let it show how pleased I am to have the Hero of Time off again. He is of absolutely no use to anyone when he doesn't have a sword in his hands. He is not a noble; he is a tool and a warrior and should stop trying to pretend at anything else.

"Their minds run rampant with terrified thoughts of a darkness coming to consume them, Majesty, they are panicked and these fears cannot be put to rest with simple words." I swallow once, both for the effect of the pause as well as to wet my own throat, I am so anxious now to say what I must, but patience and calculated suggestions are of_ absolute i_mportance at this stage.

"You sound as though my people will rebel because of the will of the Gods…" He says softly after a moment or two more of silence. I take his words in carefully, examining them from beginning to end to make sure I know every hidden meaning locked away within his tone, pitch, and simple phrasing. I am almost giddy with excitement as I read only the thoughts and emotions which I want to see within him.

"Highness, I can say nothing for foul scum who may not see you as King." I pause again, ridding my tongue of the trace amounts of disgust which mention of those who continue to pine for war and blood brings about in me. "You have rebuilt Hyrule after the mismanagement of the Kings before you, you **are** Hyrule, Majesty. But there are those-"

"Such as you, Salvin?" I feel my tongue knot itself in my mouth as my mind suddenly goes blank. His Majesty turns to me with a stony look in his eyes, catching my gaze with startling force as remains solidly before me atop the dais. "Those such as you who hold as little reason as you too truly wish my continued health?" I feel my eyes widen slightly at the accusation, differing from my plan so as to reaffirm my loyalties.

"No, Majesty, not as I." Again, I repeat; "You **are** Hyrule." His Majesty, regardless of whether or not he believes the truth, turns back towards the alter before him, and I can almost hear his thoughts moving at a calculatedly slow pace within his mind before he speaks again. I almost sigh in relief as again I hear only what I wish too in his tone and pitch.

"Not satisfied with simple words…" He mulls softly, as though to himself, and I hold my breath silently before I hear the words I have so desperately craved for many weeks now…

"What manner of… action… would you have me take then?"

--

**When Link is mentioned as being Sightless in this chapter, it doesn't mean he's blind. He has Farore's light shining through his eyes, like a sort of vision which helps to keep drawing him into the Temple. Technically he can still see, but his eyes are clouded like he's in a daze, think about when you're visualizing something on your own, or day dreaming. You can still see what's around you, but the picture in your mind's eye overrides your physical sight. Same thing with Link. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Once again, I laugh at you all, because you all claim to hate my **_**'Manipulative Bastard'**_** so much and yet things are still just heating up! And yes, the Tribe –tribe?- has spoken, and I HAVE been neglecting the romance aspect of things a bit too much, sorry…**

**Enjoy your read!**

* * *

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 14 

That first cold night spent within a cell filled with dank, moldy air and filthy smells was no better than what the day brought me. I do not even know what time it was when the door was yanked open so loudly it could have woken the dead, but I was terrified of the men who entered without words and hauled me up and away. A hood went over my head and I nearly screamed as I was half-carried, half dragged through echoing corridors of stone beneath the earth.

When the air cleared and the warmth of the summer night hit me I could feel the bile rise within my throat. I could remember- and still do- the words of the man who came to see me, who told me that I would hang eventually. In honesty I was sure that was where I was being taken now; to my death. It took all my will not to scream or burst into tears at the thought.

Instead, I was hauled up and tossed roughly onto the back of a wagon or cart. My wrists were still bound behind me with iron shackles which bit into my skin painfully as I felt the thousand tiny pricks of a bed of hay. I heard the harsh sound of a horsewhip cracking before the jarring motion of the carriage moving made it difficult for my blind form to make sense of anything at all. I don't know for how long we rode, but I could eventually catch the faint smell of brine even through the heavy, sour musk of the cloth over my head. We were nearing the harbor.

The sounds of chains and metal scraping frightened me, deeply so, especially since I could not see what the noises were coming from. I couldn't help it by that point, forgetting anything resembling dignity or grace as those rough hands came at me again, and I screamed and kicked against their grasp. I can think of nothing more terrifying or utterly disheartening than to have one's truly frantic and desperate attempts to save themselves be merely brushed aside. I was lifted from the wagon with as little trouble as though I were a bawling child.

I was set down on my feet with the dull thud of wood beneath me, the sound of the harbor waves lapping at the docks was chilling when the metal clatter was so close. I was turned roughly towards whichever of the soldiers was holding me, before being abruptly shoved backwards. I tripped over something sharp which nicked my ankle and I cried out in surprise as I lost my balance. Metal bars scraped against my shoulders roughly as those bruising hands upon me finally released their grip and let me fall. My back hit sharp edges and another rod of metal struck the back of my head, like a door too low for me to enter properly.

The clatter of chains being rattled sent shivers down my spine as I couldn't think of where I could be now, or at least not what my captors could be doing. I gave another frightened shriek as a hand came at me from behind, through the bars which rested against my back and gripped the hood over my eyes. I can remember biting down hard on my lip as the rough hand also took a clump of my hair with it as I was at last able to breath in clean, salty sea air. I coughed roughly where I was seated on a metal plate, hands still bound behind me while my sense of balance seemed completely gone from me.

I soon found reason for that lack of balance however, as my eyes came up to see only the sparkling sea before me to the south, dawn light just barely cresting the horizon to the far east. My view however was greatly obscured by black lines which ran vertically down from a point over my head. Like a bird cage. Looking around however, I felt a cold sense of dread as that was exactly what I was in. A large, metal cage too small for a person to sit in comfortably as I was hunched over on my knees. It was the sort of thing used in ages past in the three nations to showcase traitors in city squares and hung from towers... Traitors...

I can remember looking around behind me and down, my cage swinging precariously from a chain over my head and held up by a crane-like scaffolding which was at the edge of the dock. And I... I was hanging out beyond that edge, only the dark green waters of Lynna harbor beneath me should something snap or shatter.

And I've hung here since…

When the sun rose, it hurt my eyes, so bright and shining through the bars of the cage I'd been placed in. The salty surf which occasionally splashes up to me is of little comfort despite memories of the sea I've held with me for many, many years. I can see nearly all the harbor from there, and I am surprised and perhaps a bit frightened at what I see. The blackened lengths of ship masts protruded from the sides of docks where ships have sunk in flames. I can see black marks across many buildings, centered and focused like cannon fire, across various large wooden warehouses and harbor buildings which had sprung up in thirty years. As the dawn light creeps up from the east, slowly more details of some sort of assault become visible.

Slowly, but with an air of inevitability, I can see people beginning to arrive, and one alone seems to really stand out among them. An old woman slowly makes her way from the shore out onto the wharf towards me, a white shawl over her head and a basket hooked at her elbow. As she approaches, she looks so familiar to me, but without my Sight I cannot see her past to match her face to any I've seen before. I know I recognize her though. But perhaps what truly strikes me the most though, is the dark, shadowed look in her eyes which so many of her fellow country folk also carry... despite how few of them actually seem to dare to move about despite the oncoming morning. They looked like a beaten, crestfallen people, and somehow that thought makes me angry.

I'm startled from my reverie with the sudden splat of something wet hitting the bars of my cage, and blink in shock as the woman's hand vanishes once more under the cloth draped over the contents of that basket.

"Filthy Rebel!" She shrieks, shouting at me with pure anger making her movements hard and stiff. "They took my son because of you! All because of you!" I winced at the pain in her eyes, the source of which I could only truly guess at. I'm so shocked by this reaction though, that I hardly feel my own stomach suddenly spasm as the splatter from a second fruit seeps past my lips.

Food, I havn't even thought of it for so long, and suddenly I'm ravenous, pain gripped my insides painfully, as I've also been ignoring the sudden heat of the rising summer sun. I've been without food or water for hours now, if not for well over a full day. I only vaguely find myself wondering why she'd throw what she did. An apple, although it isn't of the reddest colour, even as it splices itself against the bars of my cage, it isn't completely rotten either, not by far. All the pain, anger and hatred from the old woman before me, all so open for me to see, and yet she's throwing something fresh right into my lap...

"That's enough, old hag!" I give a start at the shouts of the harbor guard, the Hylain Royal crest blazoned onto his leather tunic as the thick stranger in our lands comes down the dock with firm, drumming steps. He grasps the old woman by the arm and swings her nearly off her feet before shoving her roughly back towards the shore.

"Stop that!" I shout, my voice hoarse with the sudden, unexpected use, the single apple which has landed within the bars balanced precariously upon my lap as I feel my cage swing slightly as I move about within it. The motion frightens me, to be sure, but as the old woman is left to hobble off with her basket's contents now spilt across the wharf, the guard turns and strides boldly towards the scaffolding holding me aloft in the air.

His boot swings out at the crane, one of the metal and wood contraptions use to load and unload cargo from ships to large for planks. And I scream as the crank which is used to lower and lift those crates is struck and begins to spin. I felt lighter than air for a brief moment before my knees slam down on the metal floor of my tiny cage, the crank frozen in place again by the hand of the same guard, and I'm now a good foot lower in the air.

"And that's enough out of _you._" He says sharply to me, yet I can't pry my eyes from the dark waters below me, for all that the drop had been swift and short, they seemed so much closer now. I cannot know how much length there was to the chain, but if there's even enough links to put my cage less than an inch under…

This has been my first day. Left to hang bound within a cage watching the sun travel lazily across the sky. The fruit which had been thrown at me come the dawn has done nothing save grow warm and sticky against my skirts, for my hands remain behind my back and if I were to try and bend over and eat it like an animal, I would not only sacrifice my pride, but would likely only end up having it roll down my legs where I could not reach it, or simply onto the floor my filthy little cage.

By comparison; at least the cell is cool. True, it is more than a little chilly during the night, and it is filled with such horrible smells, but at least there I'm free from prying, shadowed eyes. The entire wharf itself is sectioned off for me, making me feel more alone than the stone walls. People are allowed to come only within throwing distance of me before the guards come and shoo them away by force.

The heat of the days rises with the sun, and so few people seem to realize just how slow and agonizing this can be. There are no comforting positions to be had within a cage whose base is no wider than two and a half feet across, and is just under four in height. I spend some of my excessive time examining the door through which I was been shoved earlier, it is crudely made with a lock which looks as though it has been pried from a door. I debate kicking it open, but that would do nothing, really. I'm still bound by shackles and even if I could jump out and swim away, I know no one in this time, and cannot simply leave the Harp behind in any case…

I do not know if I fell asleep at all for the hours as the heat continued its steady climb, the bars around me warming uncomfortably as I can only move when I remind myself so as to keep my skin from burning. Although I'm really not successful with that...

My lips grow chapped from thirst and I wall away the fierce pains of hunger from nearly two days without food by the time I hear the whickering of horses behind me. I turned sometime during the day to stare out to sea, although I don't know what I've been looking for. I turn slowly with my arms fully cramped against my back and watch as a troop of soldiers climbed out of a wagon similar to the one I was put into this morning.

I don't know what to think as they walk over to the scaffolding and begin to crank away at it, although I jump a bit as my perspective began to change and I'm swung in towards the dock. They lower me down roughly before one of them comes up to the door and –key in hand- opens the squealing hinges with a rough jerk, allowing it to slam against the bars of the cage around me. They are no more kind to me as they had were this morning; hauling me from the cage and all but tossing me into the wagon. The only mediocre difference is that they don't blind me again with that foul hood. I tried to walk to the flat bed of the wagon to avoid more manhandling, but to no avail. My legs haven't been used properly in almost two days, and have been cramped up for hours within the cage.

I feel as though I've been in a constant state of numb pain since my arrival now two days ago. It was approaching dawn when I first arrived, and this is my second full day. Already I've been cramped within a cell, stuffed within a cage, manhandled roughly and carried about like a dead weight. Above all, however, despite all of these explainable, expected pains, there has been something I have not been able to explain until even now… My voice…

Ever since I awoke within my cell that first confusing time, my throat has… ached without reason. My voice coming to me so coarse and rough, as though my throat has been scraped raw by some cold I cannot recall. But try as I might, I know that my neck is not bruised, and I know I am not ill, so the reason for my strange voice has been lost to me. Coupled with the loss of my innate sight, this has been worrying me for a while now…

The men don't blindfold me again, nor do they take me back to my cell. We ride down the main boulevards of Lynna city, dirty and befouled as they are. In the daylight the city is more sad than it was the night I walked through it in naïve wonder. The decay of the city is less because of whatever repairs have or have not been carried out by this, _'Lord Regent'_, for the roads remain well paved, but more a lack of care from the citizens. Private gardens run amuck, houses are patched only frailly while in desperate need of proper care. We even pass a building which has a tree- blown down by a storm- resting upon its roof dangerously… It is as though no one will do the work which is needed to keep the city- at the grass-roots level- running.

I feel my jaw tighten as, from where I am seated, watched by two soldiers in the back, I am able to look between the two who are driving and see where we are headed. It is a place which I recall as being only a build site with scaffolding and frames littering it, but regardless of what it was, now it is the residence of the Lord-Regent. That thought irks me to no end.

The manor, as well, is not exactly what I would have wanted. The solid, heavy design which I had in mind is much the same, but it is built out of stone and dark red wood along the roofing and doorways. The roof itself is a brick red tile which glitters in the fading sunlight of evening. For Ralph, I had wanted wooden paneling, a soothing brown for him with Labrynnian Royal Blue for the accents, the roof was to be black…

I have few doubts in my mind that this is where I have been held as well, although my designs did _not_ include a prison or dungeon. Again, the soldiers are unkind to me, pulling me roughly despite my bruises and the red burns forming along my skin from the sun, and shoving me forwards as I finally am able to reclaim my ability to walk. They've yet to say more than the occasional passing comment to one another as I'm led along by them through the dark wooden doors into the main entranceway.

From here, the entrance way is similar to what I had planned, although again, the colors are wrong. There is a staircase along one wall which leads up to the second floor, which was to be more or less for bedrooms, guest suits, and a seating area. The ground level I had planned for the kitchens, studies, and the small library I had few doubts would fill either within my lifetime or over the next few. But again, the calm blues, greens, and browns of Labrynna's forests are gone, as is the home-like feel for any of the chosen décor.

It feels so strict, so linear. All white washed walls and dark wood furniture, splashes of red occasionally coming in the form of a table cloth or painting. The floors are tiled with the pale blue stone from the sea-side cliffs. Despite the finery of this place, none of it meets my own silent approval.

I'm made to go up the stairs, trumping rudely on the wine-red carpets which run down the center of the flight as they bend and turn to reach the second floor. Here I find more red. Crimson paneling -a garish shade to eyes used to calm, natural hues- lines the walls of the corridors which I don't know the layout of. The second floor is completely changed from my designs. The tiling does not continue here at least, and it is dark red wood with that same crimson carpet which reminds me greatly of the blue strips running down the corridors of Lynna castle in the Past. All this crimson and wine is beginning to grate upon my nerves. Labrynna's colour is _blue_. Not _red_.

"Where are you taking me?" I question at last, my voice again is sore to hear, only one of the four men around me, one who is younger by far with blemishes trailing down his nose to prove it –why is a boy so young enlisted at all?- looks to me from under his burnished Hylian helmet. I feel a deep knot of

"The Lord-Regent requests your presence."

* * *

My soiled, lichen-coated boots thump across the deck of my ship with rolling impatience despite the calm evening winds filling my vessel's black sails. A cap'in's coat sags about my shoulders, where once it sat atop me stiff and proud as an admiral's uniform. Now years of salt and surf have reduced it to a thick, cumbersome article of no value t'all save that which memory gives. A broad-brimmed hat bearing the mark of a prince still rests atop me skull, but it too is abused and aged as my coat and boots.

My Lady's face which for so brief a time many years past did smile into the wind, is once more stained and blackened with grief and pain as she was during countless years battling through a sea o' storms. Planks which were refitted and resealed to stop a thousand plus one leeks are covered again in grime and creek with the pain of an angry and forlorn crew. Blue-bandanas bob in and out of sight as my crew grunt about in their foul-tempered ways.

No jaunty tunes no more do waft up from the lower decks. Cap'in I am but with no need to bark orders to keep wily men in line as they go about their penance. My _Fair Lady_ is as angered and ghostly a ship as she ever was in the throes of our deepest disparities. And there be none for us to blame save fate itself and her unwittingly cruel ways!

"Is that bastard not yet awake, you filthy pissant?!" I snarl down from where I stand next to the wheel, one of my cursed men following the currents and the winds towards our destination. When we reach land we shall do little more than re-supply our ammunitions before setting out again; at least that t'was the plan before last night's dilemma.

Three nights past did my men and I grow weary of simply taking down ships befouling our ancient waters, and we took to the port itself which once we would have called home. We burned Lynna harbour as well as only one ship could! We watched as Hylian usurpers swarmed docks and made for their precious ships, which we in turn sank before a single anchor was drawn! True, one or two of their massive vessels we did not destroy, perhaps a few were not even touched by cannon fire. But I know now with smug satisfaction that the _Goldoba_ and _Crescent Wind_ both sleep at the bottom of the harbor now. What this old soul would not part with to see the Lord-Regent's face that morning after.

Aye, but what have I to even give for such a treat? I am without my lady as I have been for too many years to count. I am without her descendant as well, the fiery youth whom I swore to serve and sail for, whose sons I would have journeyed to the ends of Nayru's waters to appease! What have I now, save this rowdy band of sailors whom are damned thrice and thrice again beside me?

I have an island of outcasts is what I have. I have Zora patrolling the waters of the harbors all along Labrynna's coastlines as though I am a commander for them to follow. I have lizard-like thieves who knew nothing of their own world and spent their days lounging upon sun-soaked beaches, at least in my memories that is how they were. And now, for one absurd reason or another, they all look to me for orders. Nay, I am no leader, no commander of anything more than my crew. These cursed souls who have been mine since the beginning. I left behind all that in life was important to me to escape the weight of true responsibility. Although some would say this is simply fate catching up with me; I shall have none of it.

I am a cursed soul with only one motive and one alone; revenge. And if that one motive coincides with the desires of those around me to liberate themselves, so be it, but I shall not be their leader.

"Nay, Cap'in, not yet." My man replies from the lower deck before me, half-flinching from my tone of voice as though he thinks I may strike him, which is very well likely. "He… he may come 'round soon though..."

…Three night's past did my men and I let loose our anger yet again as we have so many times over the years upon the shores of Lynna, yet not before a full cycle of the sun and moons had passed did we hear the most chilling news of all. A Zora did appear at the side of my ship in the full daylight as we sailed openly upon the ocean far beyond the sight of land. Aye, he carried with him a message most devastatingly horrid, but at the same time the most joyous as any have heard in many long years.

Nayru, the Oracle of Ages, once thought to be the future wife of a young prince, has at last returned after nearly thirty years of absence… And she has felled immediately into the Lord-Regent's hands… By Zora reckoning, she was captured mere hours after we had fled the scene of the destruction, when smoke would still have thinly veiled the city with its sour stench. And then come the dawn, she was left with hands bound to hang within an iron cage in the harbor in the full glare of the sun for hours.

A symbol of the Regent's power, an example to the people, and a warning to those of us who'll never bend knee to usurpers such as he. Had I blood, it would have boiled then to hear those words spoken aloud before me, to know the sacrilege of such actions. I myself am a cursed man, one who be damned to spend an untold eternity sailing the seas endlessly without cause or purpose until the gods deem me fit to die. For so long I could not think of any fate worse than that which rests upon me, but now even I, a man who turned his back on those same gods, do look to them to find a place within the blackest pits of hell for those who have committed acts more insulting than mine own! It was a near thing that I did not remove that Zora messenger's head from his shoulders…

The Oracles of Ages, Seasons, an' Secrets are chosen by the gods. They three are people within their own rights, with thoughts, feelings, and lives, but they are also the avatars of the three Goddesses themselves. As such, the Oracles, be they male or female, are strictly forbidden to shed blood not their own, and in turn it is to taunt the gods themselves to inflict harm upon one of their three chosen ones. Hylains speak of their precious Triforce and its wielders, but that is not the same. The blackest villain in even mine own memory to spread his foul touch held a shard of that benevolent power, and that truth alone ranks the Trinity Oracles high above that of the shard-holders.

That the gods have apparently answered my prayers of retribution in part has amused me to no end 'til now. Last night t'was not a flash o' lightnin' which did fill the sky; though she was dark and spiteful enough to unleash a storm from hell itself upon us. There was no awe-inspiring cry from the heavens although thunder did ripple across the deathly calm waters. The wind so suddenly died despite the infuriated clouds above, causing my black sails to slacken and my ship's pace to reduce itself to merely bobbing about like a toy boat in a tub. The entire sea itself held her breath, waiting for judgment to be passed upon those of us upon this earth.

The first sound t' invade that silence was the soft, whooping noise of a blade slicing through the air. So far away at first an' then swiftly coming closer. I swear my ship herself did shudder as the tip of a long, mighty blade embedded itself into her deck.

It fell from the sky it did; a sword which shone silver despite the clouds which hid the full face of the moon. Wing-like guards flank the handle and are a deep, royal blue like that which every Ambi used to wear in many years past. A majestic weapon which sang with the wind about it as though tossed from the skies by the gods themselves. All that mars that blade where it continues to rest blade-down in my ship on the lower half of the deck before me, is the golden Triforce etched into it just over those guards. How I despise that symbol…

I shall say it now and I dare not lie; I nearly had the man who came with that blade thrown overboard with a slit throat. It was only old, dredged up memories from over three decades past which stilled my blade and my voice. He did not arrive from the sky with bone-shattering crash, instead, the startling, numbing peal of a far off bell, so low in sound and so ominously sad, rippled through the air and sent my startled deckhands and I tumbling backwards to escape.

We felt the wind pick up about us as that horrible bell toned once more in the night, images of lives we left behind for endless storms and lost causes filling our minds and causing unspeakable anguish within our very souls. When I dared look upon that blade again where it stood pegged into the deck of my ship, there were gloved hands about the hilt.

Standing before the sword with his hands white-knuckled about it, a young man with light golden hair and dressed in riding leathers seemed shocked at where he was. He looked around once with hazy, pale blue eyes. He turned slightly, trying to take in his location as I saw the hated crest of Hyrule blazoned onto the shield across his back. That was very near what had him killed, I swear it so.

Know this; all that spared that boy's life happened just as I was easing my sword from a sea salt-encrusted scabbard were his words. His sluggish, confused, half-drunken words; and he said;

"Cap…tain..? Captain, where… where's… Nayru?"

And then he hit the deck, literally so. His hands fell from the sword and his eyes rolled back in his head before his knees buckled, and he passed out stone cold onto my deck.

"Get yer no good skull out of my sight, you worthless piece of driftwood! I'll see t' the bastard myself!" I shout down in a nasty tone, trumping loudly down the steps from the wheel-side to the proper length of the deck, turning sharply without needing watch where I'm headed as I yank open the door to my study and turn again to reach the door which'll take me farther into the lower decks.

I dunna' waste my time knocking on a sleepin' man's door, shouldering the rusty hinges open regardless of any sound it makes and stepping straight into the cramped quarters where our unwanted guest is restin' in his coma-like sleep. I cruse loudly as the room is black, but I need no real light by which t'see by, damned as I am. Regardless, there is I can see 'im there, lyin' pale in the bed an' oblivious to 'is surroundings. He's slept since he arrived, and I am sick as of waitin' for him to get up on his own time.

This boy resembles a man who should be nearing his older years now, if this be the son of the Hero who helped release me from that eternal storm; then I shan't kill him. But after year upon year of being cheated, schemed against and lied to, I haven't the patience anymore to allow a youth to regain his energy after some manner of ordeal. I reach out with one gloveless, skeletal hand and roughly grip the collar of the white shirt he has underneath the creased leather tunic and finely made chain mail he arrived in. I jerk him up with the force to hurt his neck and shake the pale Hylian bastard roughly.

"Wake up, ye worthless ass!" I snarl viciously, aware of the darkness of the cabin and that even if he were to wake up I am perhaps in a position to frighten him half to death. That doesn't stop me though, I will not sit idly by and wait, I want his name, I want his business, I want to know how he knew me, why he asked so cavalierly for the Oracle and spoke her name as if he had some right to it. If he is a man chosen by the gods so as to fulfill some sort of duty- so be it! But if his story does not add up, or his allegiance lies on the wrong side of this conflict, it'll be over the edge for him!

He canna' see in the darkness, but I can, and I watch as his blind eyes snap into wakefulness and his mouth flies open as though he were to scream. He does not however, one hand coming up to tightly grip my wrist. I give a sharp, barking laughter at the shudder which ripples through him as his hand closes around naught but bone and cloth. I give him not a single chance to speak, pulling him forward before roughly shoving him back so that his shoulders and head smack up against the wall of the cabin which is right next to his lumpy cot.

Although his eyes are useless, his pointed, Hylian ears are keen to the world around him, and as I draw my blade I see his eyes widen and then narrow seriously. I feel the slightest twinge of respect for his ability to crush his own fear, but give him no time with which to make anything of it as he stiffens at my blade's touch. I rest the tip just below his chin, using it to lift his face towards me, so that I may examine him while he is awake now, instead of merely asleep. Men always look different when aware of the world around them.

"What's yer name, boy?" I demand in a low, steady drawl, watching his pale eyes in the darkness as they glow white like an animal's. Impressively, again, he suppresses the fear he no doubt feels coursing through his weak, Hylian veins. He stares straight ahead in the darkness until one could almost say he was meeting my own gaze… if not for his very real -if temporary- blindness, of course.

"Link." He says shortly, but of course, I don't expect a long speech from a man whom I have now at the point of my blade. Although her scabbard be crusted with old brine and wind-borne salt, my sword is sharp and free of any rust, she has tasted blood many a time over these past years, and she would not mind another drink this night.

"Link…" I repeat in a low breath, before chuckling darkly where I am still hidden from him in the darkness. "Named after yer father then, are ya, boy?"

"I wouldn't know." Ah, I catch glimpse of a subtle spark of anger behind those eyes of his, a touchy topic it seems I've stumbled across.

"You wouldn't? Well, tha's a shame then, isn't it?" I feel myself grinning as only a skeleton can, and the way his jaw tightens lets me know that the energy at each of my joints is visible to him. Deep, and blacker than pitch, a speck of it hangs within each hollow socket of what were once mine eyes, it's a dark light all its own. "What business have ye aboard my ship then? A Hylian wretch such as you has no place here."

"That depends on where exactly _'here'_ is, Captain." I snort roughly at his tone, nudging the tip of the blade against the soft tissue of his throat warningly, showing him my clear dislike for the attitude.

"With no other ships nor lands about for many a mile, you appear on board my vessel too heavily armed to be excused." I drawl, thinking back to the finely crafted bow, protected by metal designs of clear Hylian make, its matching quiver bristling with arrows, and the plain -if well made- sword which were all strapped to the boy before me when he appeared. A man who travels with two swords is an oddity in itself which boasts poweress and wealth, but to have the plain steel of the weapon now locked within my cabin paired with the shimmering silver of the sword pegged into my deck above, is stranger still.

"Are you the cursed pirate I once knew years ago?" He questions boldly, wetting his lips as the only sure sign he's given me so far as to his sense of the eminent danger he has stumbled unto. "Queen Ambi's Rebe-" Fast as quick-silver, my sword flashes in the darkness although there should be no light for it to catch. I can feel the dark light behind mine eyes flaring with the sudden anger rippling through me. The scent of blood- one which I so easily am able to sense with this damned curse upon me- wafts into the air from the boy before me and from the blade which bit him.

"Dare you name me rebel again, boy, and I'll remove those pointed ears of yours…" My sword hisses with venom as I sheath her smoothly at my side, the boy's eyes watching the darkness blindly, so wary and yet at the same time agonizingly defiant. He does not even lift his hand to touch the long slash trailing diagonally across his cheek from his chin until nearly half way up to his right eye.

At last, I give him light as well, turning soundly on my heel as I reach out to the small desk nailed onto the floor of the tiny cabin, shrinking the space more so with its presence. I grip one of the brass handles to a particular drawer which I had my men locked.

I do not bother with keys now, merely giving a sharp yank to shatter the mechanisms and have the drawer jerk out towards me, a pale, milky light shining up from within. The other possession of his; one of the fairy folk trapped within a glass bottle. It was at his belt, and my men and I could scarcely hold the container long enough to undo the cap and release it. Only a true fool would dare toss a trapped Fairy-Folk into the sea without means of escape; and then that fool would have the Fairy Queen to answer to. I grasp the bottle gingerly, aware of the numb, burning sensation which her pure little light sends through my fingers before I toss it backwards at the whelp.

"Tend yer wound and come on deck, boy. My men and I don't take kindly to your obstruction on the boardwalk."

* * *

**To Rexnos, I had to reply to your review here instead of in a PM. You're exactly right, the last few chapters –I know!- have been horribly vague and confusing. In fact, I've had to blur out more detail than I originally thought I would because, to be honest, I became a bit freaked out when people began picking the plot apart far too early, and getting uncomfortably close to the truth! **

**I might've mentioned this before, but I'd have been horribly crushed for anyone to suddenly review in chapter five and blurt out my entire plot line. Just because of the amount of physical TIME I've put into this story, having the plot be so easily exposed so early would have been **_**heartbreaking.**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Altering some of the events in Oracle of Ages this chapter, as it'd be too complicated to explain how Link actually makes his way to the Sea of Storms in the game, and I don't remember how you get off Crescent Island… **

* * *

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 15 

"Those shall not be needed…" I feel a tug at my hands and glance over my shoulder in surprise as the cuffs about my chaffed, cramped wrists fall away. I could sigh as hours worth of tight strain and immobility begin to ease out of me. It takes all I have left to keep me from rolling and messaging my shoulders from where I stand just within the doorway.

The study before me is well lit, I must admit to that, numerous candle holders protruding from the walls and giving the room a golden glow. The walls are lined with thick, heavy bookcases which in turn hold numerous volumes in neat, tidy order. A massive, high-standing desk rests across the room from the doorway, a thick red rug patterned with the Triforce and –again- that eye-shaped symbol from before. That crest mocks me almost as I stand rigidly, the soldiers about me clicking their booted heels together before saluting and exiting.

Looking past the details of the room, I turn to the man who spoke and dismissed the soldiers. He sits upon a thick chair which looks far too much like a throne for my taste, his heavy desk made of dark wood and stone. Truth be told there is little about the man himself from my perspective which is remarkable, his balding head hangs forwards somewhat with age, a halo of white partially hiding his Hylian ears as his face droops in a manner similar to most old men. I could easily guess him to be in his late fifties… his hands are pale as they hold a feather quill, scribbling something fluidly onto the parchments neatly laid about his desk. On the corner there is a silver platter with a cover over it, as well as a large pitcher.

As soon as I notice the signs of food and drink, I pry my gaze from them and refuse to acknowledge their presence. I will not be made to look like a weak, starving little wretch, no matter how my insides writhe at the thought of going any longer without something to eat… I stand in silence for a few moments more, watching his steady movements with only the sound of the nub scratching against the paper reaching out between us.

"I have no business with one as filthy as you, girl." He drawls softly, not lifting his gaze to me in full as there is a pair of thin, gold-framed spectacles sitting atop his thin, angular nose. "There is a basin and towels there on the table. Use them." The contempt in his voice is galling, as though it is by choice that I have been left to lie in filth for over two days now.

I loathe the idea of following his orders, but I catch sight of my wrists and know that it's for my own good that I do something to sooth them. After two days they are already rubbed raw from the metal, small cuts having formed from the sharp edges of the cuffs where they constantly bit into my skin. Despite the hurt my pride will take, reason wins out this time, and I make my way over to where the pale porcelain basin and pitcher stand on a small side table. There are a number of towels as well, as he already mentioned, and I take up the smallest of them to wet as I pour some of the water in gently.

I have to keep from hissing between my teeth as there is likely some kind of soap within the water, for it stings my wounds as I ease my wrists under. I use to cloth to gently hold the tender patches of skin, allowing the cool temperature of the water to sooth some of the pain away. I splash some of the water onto my face as well, feeling the same stinging sensation as my cheeks were reddened ever so slightly by the sunlight today. Still, as with my hands, holding the cool cloth to my face helps ease more pain than the soaps inflict. If I could do anything for my matted hair, or the clammy feeling which has slowly begun to invade my cloths, I would, but now is not the time…

"My son has told me that you are the Oracle of Ages…" I freeze as I pat my face dry on one of the larger towels, slowly going back about my business for a moment as the pen-scratching has died now. When I look back to him his long-fingered hands are threaded together over his now clear desk. I hadn't been able to see his eyes before now, but as he watches me now, I can see the pale green of them, so like those from the man in the cell, but still not quiet the same…

"Come, sit…" I watch as his fingers unravel themselves, and he gestures smoothly towards a chair I hadn't noticed just off to the side in front of his desk, so close to that covered tray I fight back the urge to glare at him in response. I am not in a position to argue with him however, and I feel almost as though my legs will give out soon from the strain of standing after so long left cramped up and unused.

"You are the Lord-Regent…" I say softly after a few moments, crossing the space between us and slipping into the chair with as much grace as I can muster just now. I fold my hands neatly into the lap of my stained skirts, my ankles crossed and knees together. "A Hylian lord given power over lands not his people's own, tell me, how did this come to pass?"

It starts off so subtly and slowly that I hardly see it, the quirk of the old man's lip as his eyes suddenly chill me. They do not hold the same flames of greed as his son's, but the deeply rooted contempt for the world around him shines through like a beacon.

"Not mine own? Perhaps you aren't the Oracle; too not know something so simple as that." He answers in a sly manner, his voice sounding velvety to my ears, but at the same time it is so very unsettling. Regardless, I feel my eyes begin to narrow as he questions my position.

"But, for the moment let us put business aside. You look weary… Here… eat…" My back stiffens and I can't help the reaction, his hand moving out towards the platter now resting at my elbow, lifting the lid off of it as I fix my eyes on him and not on whatever it is he uncovers. The warm smell of fish, spices, vegetables, and other ingredients all stewed together wafts up to me with the aroma of fresh bread, and my mouth waters instantly.

Bastard…

"And if you are thirsty…" I close my eyes as I fight to keep my hands still in my lap, hearing the gentle chink of metal as a golden goblet hidden behind the platter is revealed. I do not watch as whatever the pitcher behind it holds is poured and the drink set down before me.

"You are cruel…" I say simply, meaning nothing by it save the words themselves. I can hardly stand to look to him now, not wanting to have him taunting me so effectively with simple sustenance.

I will not eat it. I will not. I will not take food from his hand as charity, I refuse. All of my pride forbids it, and I will stand to this resolution. This man sits in a throne-like chair as though he has a right to it, when in truth no ruler of any other nation may ever sit themselves atop Labrynna as her king. The words from the cell make my blood boil, the idea of some queen's death marking Labrynna's change from a nation herself into a territory of another. The very idea disgusts me.

"And you are too proud." He says kindly, daring to chuckle lightly in amusement as I feel a sense of disgust well up within me. "If you do not eat by the time we finish tonight, you will not have another chance until tomorrow."

"And what will tomorrow bring?"

"Much the same as today did."

Hate. I've always been able to control my emotions, always been able to see into the pasts and the futures of those around me so as to know why they act as they do and speak as they will. But now I am without that sight, and although that knowledge still goads me, it also now seems to rob me of my composure. I feel it; chilling, icy hate.

"Oracle… Princess… Rebel Fake… I do not care for your truth…" He drawls slowly, that smile still in place as the old man shifts forwards in his seat, leaning his elbows onto the hard surface of the desk to look at me as I finally pry my eyes from the wall behind him, looking to him with a stony expression carved onto my face.

"You have not answered my question." I demand, my voice firm but my volume low, making it so that he must listen carefully to hear me instead of allowing whatever thoughts are within his balding head to drown me out. He simply chuckles and twiddles his thumbs in amusement under his chin.

"You say no Hylian has a right to rule what is not Hyrule's, and you are incorrect with that assumption for two simple reasons, girl." He says casually, but slowly he seems to understand the scope of the situation, and leans back in his chair with a sigh, absently running his thin fingers along the carved arms of his throne.

"The Hylian people are the children of the gods," He recites, looking to me with a serious, measuring gaze in his eyes as his attention is focused, but his sights trace the sides of my face in a manner similar to that his son used in the darkness of the cell. It makes me sick.

"The gods created the world, and left their children, the Hylians, behind to hear their words. Tell me, Oracle, how could a land such as Labrynna, which ruled itself without the pure blood of the gods running through the veins of its self-proposed Royal families be able to follow the designs of the gods if they were all deaf to the heavens? Is that where you come in, I suppose? An Oracle, an Avatar of the gods - but one whose power is simply to maintain and never alter the world around them." He closes his eyes slowly, and I watch him intently, not buying into his words so much as seeking some means of escaping the aroma of the food before me…

"Tell me then, Oracle, what right have the Hylians to not intervene?" he questions, and I blink suddenly at his words. His green eyes are slit open ever so slightly, the green of his eyes reflecting ethereally in the golden candle light. "Is it not the duty of those of us who are the children of the gods, to save our sister nations from falling into blasphemous decay?"

"You're mad!" I shout, aggravating my throat as I so suddenly raise my voice as I have not done for too long. I stop and am forced to cough, lifting one hand over my mouth as I do so.

I am a fool. An utterly blind fool. For all my self-talk of standing by my pride and not allowing myself to be baited, it is second nature for me to accept the goblet so casually offered to me as my throat is plagued with this unexplainable pain. However, as I take a well-needed drink, downing nearly the entire goblet in only a few starved gulp, I answer that boggling question once and for all.

It burns. By Din's fire, it burns. My tongue tells me the contents of the goblet is nothing but water, but as it flows down my throat is feels as though it is set afire. Spice, hot, jarring spice, like acid sears my insides and bring tears to my eyes. I drop the goblet into my own lap, my hands flying to my mouth as I try to cough and yet cannot. It is as though the muscles within my throat will not move to make it so, I double over in my seat, shaking as the air feels hot as it enters my lungs, coming out like fire over my tongue. Slowly, after a few moments of startled breaths, I begin to taste copper seeping into my mouth…

"Mad you call me, girl, or perhaps I am the only one who still sees things clearly." My vision spins as I watch the red carpet under my feet blur into itself before a few soft drips stain it darker by the slightest amount.

"And you are not the Oracle of Ages… Though you have convinced my son that you are." I tilt my head to the side, a shocked, pained look clearly painted across my face as I cannot hide it. The pain fades, but I cannot explain where this fire came from, what was in the water? I see him there, standing next to me, the long, flowing red robes of a Hylian lord filling my vision with their gold thread and the Triforce blazed upon it.

"The real Oracle would have known the effects of the draught, the fire which scores the innards of its victims." Fear, I feel it grip my insides like icy talons, my limbs feel leaden and I can hardly move, only his words and the strangled sounds of my own breaths reaching me as my ears roar with the panicked rush of blood through me.

"You are not going to die, girl… I grow weary of the running of this filthy, decrepit land. My goals were to secure this land for the rightful kings of Hyrule, and I have done so. It is my son now who holds grand designs for Labrynna, and the son of my cousin who will reclaim my grandfather's throne. You are Mathias' prisoner, and it is his plans now which I shall follow… I look forward to meeting with you again tomorrow evening."

Somewhere through this speech, I feel myself slowly begin to topple forwards, stunned by pain and raging fire I find myself on the floor still gasping for what little air manages to flutter past my lips and through my swollen throat. I hear a distant chiming, like that of a bell being rung, and the low thud of footsteps.

Rough hands come and grab at me, hoisting me up although I haven't the strength to stand, and eventually settling for simply hauling me out. The last words I hear could belong to either father or son, I cannot know which:

"Of course we have a right to rule Labrynna; the Prince Raphael handed it to us himself."

* * *

The entire ship seems… angry. The creaks and groans of the wooden planks and rusted hinges all speak of frustration. The motions of the crew are short and brutal as they go about coiling lines, tying cargo, and going about other mediocre tasks on their ghost ship. I don't miss the several lethal glares oozing out of the shadows in my direction as I follow behind the Captain back inside from the upper deck, the Master Sword humming contently in my grasp as its silver blade picks up what little light there's to be had upon a ghost ship during the night.

"What know ye of yer own land's past?" The skeletal form of the undead pirate questions, striding behind the age-blackened desk of his which is plastered with charts and littered with navigation tools. He rummages about the large shelves built into the walls of the cabin behind his desk. Keys jingle in the shadows before he pries open a wooden door, pulling out the familiar harnesses of my sword, bow, and quiver. He stops in surprise as he pulls out a second scabbard, this one empty as even without the proper light I know it to be a dark royal blue with gold detailing. It's the Master Sword's sheath.

"What do you mean?" I ask, sliding the Legendary blade of my people into its casing with a sharp hiss before beginning to strap it on across my back so that it pokes out over my left shoulder. My chin stings slightly as I move my head about, the slice across my cheek from the Captain's blade is still oozing slightly, and I can tell that at least a bit of salt has made its way in to cause me additional discomfort. The fairy hangs at my belt once more, contently resting along the edge and probably dozing since I didn't allow her out for something so small as a cut. I still don't know where I am exactly, or even when…

I've never been thrown through time by the gods at the same time as being moved across distance, but that looks to be the state of things now. In a future which never came to pass, I pulled the Master Sword from its pedestal and fell asleep for several years, but when I awoke I was still within the Master Sword's chamber. When I was sent to Hollodrum and later to Labrynna, it was simply a case of being sent to either land and having no effect on time. Terminia… was more or less my own fault… and a bit of fate, so I'm still in the dark about what really happened…

The state of the ship and her crew are what make me think I'm not in the same time anymore. The Captain is a man- albeit an undead one- whose memory is sharper and clearer than almost any other, and yet when I awoke he didn't seem to recognize me at all. The comment about being named after my father stung in a way it shouldn't have, but thinking on it now I'm curious; why would he look at my face and think I'm my own son?

The ship is another indication of something being very different. Weeks ago when Ralph arrived, it was the _Fair Lady_ who brought him ashore, and she certainly didn't look as weather worn or beaten as she does now, and it's defiantly the same ship. It's very difficult to try and convince myself that there are in fact two ghost ships pirated by the same crew who just don't happen to know about one another. Unless I'm back in Terminia again… Oh, Farore _**no!**_

"The Oracle of Ages once told me that Hyrule was torn by rebellion, by now I would say that war was some fifty years past…" I pry myself from my thoughts as the Pirate captain abruptly begins speaking. Mechanically I've already managed to strap on both of my swords, although I don't know what good the plain steel of my knight's sword will be. My bow isn't bothered as it hooks over one handle, and my quiver likewise simply hangs off my back as it always has. I wasn't given back my shield though…

"Fifty years…" I murmur, thinking back through what I know of history. "You mean the rebellions which placed…"

"One of their holy sages atop the throne? Aye… But the King who was unseated in that war, his children were allowed t' live by the new King's law. The Hylian Queen herself; her mother was daughter of the old king." I blink to hear that, looking curiously to the Captain as I feel as though I'm slowly being given enough information to piece together exactly where and when I am… But… a Hylian Queen…

"Zelda..?" The Captain drops himself roughly into an aged, creaking wooden chair at one side of the navigation table, looking to me curiously as I whisper the name softly.

"Queen Zelda… Aye, that be the lowly sow's name…" He says it so casually, but I nearly choke at his words. I bite back the very sudden urge to demand that he repeat himself, keeping myself silent as challenging him probably won't go over well.

"They say the Prince died of a fever…" My attention abruptly snaps completely to him, and I blink in shock as I don't quiet know if I heard him right. The contempt in the old pirate's voice slowly fades as he shifts the conversation again, not waiting for me to give a reply. As simply as that I push away my startled thoughts concerning Zelda.

"The Prince Raphael?" I ask, again, receiving a strange look from the skeletal Captain as he seems curious as to why I don't know these names and their meanings off as second nature. I feel oddly cold inside as I wait for an answer.

"Aye, boy. What rock have ye be livin' under these past thirty years? Yer father seal ye in a cave at the bottom o' the sea since yer birth?" I flinch slightly at the question, unable to come up with an answer for him as he shakes his head and continues on with what he had been saying.

My mind however, is suddenly sent reeling. Ralph, dead? How? Why would that happen? It doesn't make sense as I swiftly backtrack over what I know of Ralph's visit to Hyrule Castle. A fever? There's been no trace of illness in or around the castle for a good long while, nothing more than what winter blows in every year, but in the height of spring and summer there are no such diseases running rampant…

"Aye, the Prince Raphael I of Ambi. The Hylians told us that spring that the Prince had died from a fever in the winter months. Came through the mountains with not a one of our boys among them still. A plague of some sort in the castle they said, struck the Prince and his vassals first and then spread amongst the men in the barracks, finally ran rampant through the servant's chambers." I blink in a startled, wide-eyed manner, staring at a random point in the far wall. I don't understand…

"D'ya want to know what really happened to 'em, boy?" I feel that dark gaze crawling along me, sizing me up as though he's considering having me tossed overboard for some sort of crime. I force myself to turn my gaze back to him however, knowing that I need to hear all of this. I need to understand why I'm hear, what's happened while I've been gone… If only paying the Captain full attention didn't mean I also have to stare straight into those dark, sightless holes in his skull, that eerie half-light shining through and sending a shiver down my spine.

"They killed him, they did…" I feel a hard lump form in my throat and swallow it tensely, my stomach knotted as a sinking feeling is slowly settling down upon me. The Captain's words are raspy and low, and I can sense the deep anger in his spirit as the air so suddenly feels charged with the emotion. "They made him give over all 'is lands and wealth through marriage, then killed him…" I blink as he continues with his low drawl, feeling the need to suddenly interrupt him.

"Marriage?" I question, my voice coming out sharper than I meant it to, and earning me another quick, accusing look from the undead man before me.

"Yer oblivious to all a' this, ain't cha, boy?" Is his answer, and again I feel myself swallow, taking a deep breath to keep my nerves in check as I certainly don't feel very welcome or safe aboard this ship as I might once have. "I can see it in yer eyes; ye know naught of what has become of Labrynna since the Prince's death."

So swiftly, he's on his feet behind the desk, and even with that barrier between us I feel a spark of anxiety take root within me. My stool abruptly tumbles back and I feel my left hand gripping the sword hilt over my shoulder, alert and still not sure of what's going on…

"Yer no son…" The Captain drawls, that dark light in his eyes making it impossible for me to relax my hold on the Master Sword. The curse upon him which is visible at his joints is the reason why only I could remove Farore's blade from the deck outside. The black magic which keeps the crew in their limbo cannot contact the blade without being dispelled or dispersed. Who knows what fate would befall any of them if anything save the power which placed the curse were to remove it…

"No man's son, that's what you are…" I flinch although I don't mean to, frustration beginning to well up within me as he keeps mentioning the family I don't have. Those thoughts are enough to distract me however, and I can hardly follow the Captain's movements as suddenly his skeletal hand is gripping the front of my shirt boldly. He forces me back with more speed and strength than I thought he could possess, but should I have expected any less from a ghostly captain aboard his own cursed ship? A wall connects with my back and I don't have the time to draw either sword as the floor isn't where it should be, both my hands flying to the boney wrist of the captain as he isn't choking me, but it's suddenly difficult to breathe. Those menacing, hate-filled black eyes are so close to me my skin begins to crawl.

"No… your face is too much the same… naught a line outta place or an angle tilted wrong… Those eyes, I can see yer soul through them… Aye. Tis you, boy. Tis you…"

He drops me, and for some reason I can't catch myself as my boots strike the floor, toppling over and to the ground before I find my eyes glaring up at him defiantly. The low chuckle which answers me sends a cold shiver down my back, and I say the first and only thing which comes to mind:

"Marriage?"

* * *

The waters of Hyrule Castle are always so calm and warm. In truth, they bother me slightly as, although it is nice to float without constant currents, the even, unchanging feel of the water along my skin makes me feel off balance. The currents here are minimal, and only enough so as to stir the water and keep any algae from growing.

Most of the doorways are angular and straight as the rooms in the higher corridors are, but within the chambers most are more curved in nature. Shell-shaped designs are scrawled along most walls, smooth, rounded stones serving as places to set down items. We are a people of few material possessions, save what we may wear on our bodies such as my own necklaces. The corners of every chamber are all smoothed and built like the arms of human chairs, safe places for a weary Zora to float as they sleep so they don't drift across the room or into the hall.

In truth, I must commend the ancient engineers who constructed the simply named Water Corridor. I do not know how much of the actual building was done by Zora, although the design of the chambers was clearly done by our craftsmen. But it is a shame much of their knowledge was lost in the years leading up to Hyrule's rebellions…

My people, regrettably, did participate in the war… My father has told me many times of how at first we chose, as the Gorons of Death Mountain, to distance ourselves from the conflict, but how eventually we were made to make a choice and choose a side. I am thankful my father made the correct decision, following the young sage who contested the rule of the former Hylian king, and brought back the spiritual; devote nature of the people to their gods.

"We will be leaving tomorrow then, Majesty?" I pull my shoulders around in the warm currents of my chamber within the sunken corridor. One of my aides, a younger Zora who has never before been beyond Zora's Domain, floats there expectantly, absently kicking her feet so as to remain level, I know her to be a smooth swimmer back home, but as I am unused to the calm currents of the man-made sanctuary, she as well is having a hard time adjusting.

"Yes, Mika." I say, smiling at the young Zora, her dark blue eyes appearing hopeful and perhaps a bit relieved at the prospect of returning home. I have been feeling lazy today, I spent much of the day in Zelda's garden speaking with her of both trivial and important things. She has been so withdrawn since the bells rang to summon Link away, I felt the need to be around her as a friend even though I haven't had the mind for the past few days to do more than float around and relax.

Now in the late evening I feel a bit more carefree as I tilt my head back, bending my back around to perform a slow flip in the water, only to stop midway so that I am merely floating upside down while looking at her. She tilts her head to the side and giggles slightly at my position. Zora are not as Hylians, we have times for formality and business, but when I am simply talking to someone when almost everyone else in my party, if not the entire castle, is asleep, I am Ruto, not Princess.

"Is Lanu feeling better yet?" I ask absently, recalling our arrival some days ago. "She was lagging on the way upriver before we arrived within the castle…" Frowning slightly, I watch as Mika absently looks up and around my vaulting chamber, thinking over my question.

"Yes, I think so…" She replies after a moment more of thought, and I can tell that her mind is slowing down as the moon beyond these layers of stone has perhaps already reaching its zenith. "She was swimming laps outside the corridor this morning, she looked a lot stronger." We have a long swim before us tomorrow, I should tell her to go and slee-

My thoughts are abruptly shattered by a high, terrified echo through the water around me. Zora speak as Hylians, but our voices are more musical in nature due to our connection to Nayru's waters. Our emotions come through our words more clearly than of the other races, and the shriek from one of my people is like a cold knife which freezes my marrow.

Mika is closer to the door than I am, but with the sudden cry rippling through the water she turns with too much strength and ends up firing off into a corner of the room. But I have more practice in these calm waters, twisting my shoulders so as to right myself before snapping my legs down and darting forwards.

"_Blood!!_"

The corridor is so dark at night I am nearly lost as I curve through my doorway without pause. But with the screams, lights immediately begin to flare within the rooms my company have settled into since our arrival. Pale, milky white from Glow Stones suddenly spills into the hall, my vision filling with shimmering scales and blowing fins. I feel the ripple of voices along my skin as within a single moment one scream has turned into tens…

"Blood in the water!"

"A curse! Don't breathe!"

"Blood! There's _blood!_"

"_**Swim!!**_"

"Everyone out!" I holler over the growing noise, propelling my voice through the water around us and watching the ripples grow and spread out from me. I taste nothing amiss in the water around me, sense nothing ill, but I order them away without hesitation. As the cries of blood multiplied before, my own demand for them to leave begins to cry out over the rest of the din, and I feel tens of sleek, silvery bodies slipping past me like the strong currents of home.

I, however, go forwards. I arch my back and stiffen my arms at my sides, feeling spines begin to form along my fins. I quell the nervous flutter within my stomach as I speed forwards down the length of the corridor. I will find the cause of this mayhem, and if it is some sort of cruel joke there will be retribution!

It is these thoughts of mischief which keep me going at a strong, sound pace even as the waters of the corridor so abruptly become silent. No one, not even Mika, defying my order to leave in the wake of such an ill omen. To breathe in the blood of another being is to bring a curse upon oneself, blood only ever washes away from homes which are in the swiftest currents, or else the stench of it hangs in the waters forevermore along with the distraught spirits of those whose life it once was.

Once, many, many hundreds of years ago, Zora lived within Lake Hylia as a massive city with fabled magics and wisdom, a true city of Nayru. The histories are vague now, but at one point Zora brothers killed themselves in that fabled home, their blood hanging as a slick cloud over the city and turning the clay of Lake Hylia its present crimson colour. No Zora will ever willingly live where blood has been shed, be it Zora or not!

Quickly, I come to the large, circular chamber which leads to the open air of the sparkling crystal dome above. That dome is dark now with the night, although pale moonlight manages to shine down first through the stained glass above, and then filter through the near-still waters of the corridor…

I am a Princess of the Zora people, one day I shall be Queen of the Zora who protect Lake Hylia and the rivers of Hyrule which feed and nurture it. The waters from our home in Zora's Domain are the responsibility of my family until they leave Lake Hylia's southern rivers and empty into the sea. I have been born and bred with all the dignity and grace of one who will come into such a great responsibility, I have learned from my father to be strong as the currents and just as unyielding. I have never doubted my abilities to one day lead my people.

But as I watch those pristine rays of silver moonlight strike the water, and turn crimson, as the sightless eyes of a startled man cloaked in red look to me with unanswered questions, and as I watch his fellows all floating around him in a horridly violent display. I am Ruto, a Zora staring into the darkest terror of my people, and I scream.

* * *

**I feel evil now. Evil is good. This makes for a very easy entrance to Chapter 16.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Looking back at chapter one, how many of you thought this story would become something which's steadily growing more and more twisted? It makes me giggle to think about. See? Evil… **

* * *

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 16 

"Majesty…"

They're dead. Just… like that, they're all dead. Their faces pale and washed out as their blood has already drained from their bodies. They're like ghosts, they're so pale as their eyes aren't even closed yet.

"Your Grace..."

And I'm just standing here. I can't even move to try and help fish their corpses out of the water… Corpses clothed in leather gauntlets and tunics, dark, Labyrnnian blue undershirts visible at the cuffs of their sleeves and hems of their tunics. They're dead.

"Highne-"

"_**SHUT UP!**_" I round on the stupid, lack-wit boy in castle livery who's been prattling titles for the past several minutes behind me. I don't care who he is or what his message is supposed to be about, I fist one hand in the front of his shirt and tower over him darkly as I'm a full head taller than the boy.

"Say what you have to and just shut up!" I holler; my sense of control fraying dangerously thin as the boy's pale green eyes stare up at me in shock, and perhaps even a bit of fear. Damn it, I feel sick, I just want everyone to go away…

"Th-th-the King, he said he wanted to speak with you about… about…" The boy's words trail off as I force myself to straighten back up and attempt to work my clenched fingers out of his shirt. Turning away from him sharply, I hear him take in a few shaky, breaths behind me as I try to do the same. I feel wound up so tight that I'm about to snap from the strain. All my darkest fears about what could happen in Hyrule pale in comparison to what's happened now. My men are dead; by Din's Fiery Wrath the men I brought with me, the five of them so excited to be off and running around the world with me as royal guards, they're all _**dead!**_ It's so hard for me to not just shove the boy away in anger, or strike him hard enough to bruise his eye or snap his jaw. He isn't doing anything wrong, but damn it all I'm _useless! _

"About this?" I ask tensely,

"Yes, M'lord…" Silence, I close my eyes, but not before I find myself staring into Dandale's sightless, startled eyes where his corpse has yet to be covered on the cold stone.

They didn't drown. There's too much dried blood on the tiled floor around me for me to believe they drowned. They were dead before they even reached the Water Corridor, the blood runs in trails; they were dragged as bleeding dead weights and tossed into the Zora's wing. That's why everyone's here now, hours before even the sun is set to rise. Bloody water is a terrifying omen for Zora, and I can honestly say that it has the same effect on them as the Dark King walking would have on Hyrule.

The old Zora Ambassador, Zelos, is also among the dead for some reason. His room was closer to this chamber than the members of the Princess's company, perhaps he heard the splashes of my men being tossed in… Came to see what happened…

Lost his life like they did…

I didn't arrive here first, Zelda had already come and gone away with the hysterical Zora princess before word finally reached me, and even then the runner failed miserably to tell me just whose men they had been… Now I'm perhaps the last titled person still here, a few shaken, jumpy servants all clothed in castle livery are working with poles and small floating rafts to dredge up the bodies.

I want them burned. I think those were the first words I could manage after I saw the first of my country men being dragged from the waters, several small, oozing holes in his throat showing what had brought him down. Needles. Their killer used needles. The small projectiles were thrown between the creases of their armor, first to cause pain, then to kill, and all before they could do anything to properly defend themselves… Just thinking of it makes my blood boil, the reality that none of the guards on duty at the time knew a thing is enough to tint my vision red…

I want their bodies burned, and I want their ashes kept so I can return them to their families in Labrynna. I can't carry their bodies over mountains or store them in a ship and dare call it respectful treatment, but I won't abandon their remains in a land not their own. I wanted to take them home and have them go off and feel important in the community, royal guards who'd performed a tour of duty for their new prince. Now, all I can do is return their ashes…

"Prince Ralph?" I flinch as the boy uses that stupid title on me, my hot anger slowly giving way to a deep sense of self-loathing. This is my fault, and I didn't even know what was happening… I'm such a fool…

"Will you be answering his Majesty's summons..?"

"Of course I will," I snap back, bristling at the question as the last thing I want now is more formalities and titles and procedures. "I will, I just…" I grit my teeth as I find I have nothing I can really put into words just now. I look across the black stones which slope down into the Water Corridor. All of the rooms down below are by now empty as I don't doubt there's a pod of panicked, terrified Zora congregating somewhere upriver… I swear right now that the instant that bastard Hero reappears in Hyrule I'm going to blacken his eye for leaving me alone without another sane person too speak to throughout all of this. _My men are __**dead**_**.**

"I'll kill whoever's responsible for this." I hiss between my teeth, my hands clenched as fists as I can feel my nails biting into my palms hard enough to draw blood. "I swear it so… I won't leave enough of them left behind for the _rats _to fight over…"

* * *

My family is, as I'd assume most others are, very complicated and complex. Answering a simple question for the present requires a good deal of digging around in the past before you're even halfway towards the truth. Given the tendency for my parent's generation to be absurdly tight-lipped about their pasts, it can be a real bother for me to satisfy my curiosity. Even with my cousin's occasional offering of solid knowledge condensed into a book, there are always pieces missing from the puzzle. And since I'm still confined to bed with my now twice-broken arm given my Lord's poorly-timed call of duty, I have an ungodly amount of time to try mashing all the bits and pieces together into something that –at best- only _sort of_ makes sense…

To begin with the simple, grass-roots basics; Salvin's mother is my father's older sister. He's the youngest by a number of years in fact, nearly ten, thus the reason for my cousins being so much older than I am.

My grandparents had four children actually. Aunt Kataline swears up and down that there were only three of them, but both her husband and my father quietly remind the household that it was indeed four.

My Aunt Kataline is a strange one, although I won't say that aloud to anyone. She was the third youngest in her family. She and Salvin are much alike, only I feel far more safe around my cousin. His mother's eyes are a deep blue which almost seem to hold miniature flames when she speaks about something passionately, which is often. Those flames always make her look hungry, greedy even, and she's so swift to take insult at even the slightest wrong that I often feel as though I'm walking on eggshells to please her. For the longest time, I didn't know why she acted like a queen, or why she'd always refer to me as _'Princling'_, harsher with her dealings with me than anyone can remember her being with my cousin when he was my age. It seems almost unfair really…

My father is where the work is done, as my Uncle doesn't do a speck more work than it takes to pick a horse for his afternoon ride and wait for someone to saddle it. My father is the one who inspects the farms on our estates, balances the books, makes sure enough food is kept from markets to keep everyone fed over the winter, assures all quotas are met and that the hold works as efficiently as possible. He's a hard and diligent worker, my father. Regrettably his loyalty to his Majesty is numbingly absolute. Ever since I arrived in Hyrule Castle I have done no right for him in terms of my duties as a squire. That I was assigned to a lord who doesn't want me tailing him day and night, scrubbing his back and trimming his hair doesn't do much to stem the flow of letters demanding that I perform every obnoxious duty under the sun…

That loyalty and devotion to his Majesty is somewhat of a rift in our household. And I never understood why until I began poking about in the histories here within the Castle Library. Aunt Kataline prefers to act as though there is no monarch at all whereas my father would bark like a dog if his Majesty asked it of him… Thankfully, the Library has all the answers, including the reasons behind the _'Four Children vs. Three Children' _debate back home.

After my Aunt Kataline, the next oldest child my grandparents had was another girl, and this is the one who is often stricken from Aunt Kataline's version of the family tree. Her name was Melodia, and to be honest I can understand my Aunt's refusal to acknowledge her, as technically she was disowned by my grandfather during the rebellion years ago. This outcast sister betrayed her own parents and siblings, dropped them down a number of rungs on the social ladder come the end of the war, and her chosen husband was the same man who killed her elder brother in combat before taking my grandfather's title for himself.

I suppose watching her sister become Queen was too much for my aunt Kataline to accept, thus her constant state of denial. I'd be more than willing to agree with her, save that my cousin, my parents and myself all realize something very important about the exchange of power. In all technicality; when my grandfather was unseated and his Majesty was crowned, it was most defiantly the Queen Melodia who spared the lives of her two remaining siblings. When I have actually been able to pry information from my father about the war's end, he always reminds me that he was little more than a child at the time, and feels no regret for the loss of our family's position. To be honest, I'm inclined to agree.

My father runs our family's hold with the true ease and efficiency of any man who believes in hard work and devotion to a cause, but on a simple, homey scale. I myself like my books more than I like working the earth, and since everyone knows girls are vile, shrieking things who only talk of dresses and make up and dolls, I don't see what would be so bad about living in the Temple of Time surrounded by all of that ageless wisdom... I'd absolutely hate being in the prying limelight of the Royal Family, and during one of my father's far more lucrative moments, I learned that he would have shat himself by now if anyone- aside from my less than credible aunt- had ever mentioned anything along the lines of him making a grab for the crown. Ludicrous.

I think the main reason I started delving into my family's history was Malvo, my cousin's devoted servant. Obviously, since I started that search I've found far more than I'd ever thought to uncover, and have learned of more than on Royal scandal from the past. But regardless, Malvo serves my cousin in a way which is akin to how Lady Impa shadows Her Majesty the Princess. They always pass looks between one another, always anticipate each other's plans and build off the other one's ideas, and they do all of that without a single word. Malvo is a quiet man by nature, but for some reason despite his near-constant silence, he never gives off a sense of weakness. The man is as unmoving as a stone.

Regrettably, he can be just as dull as one too...

"Have you come to check the wrappings again, Malvo?" I ask quietly, looking up from the blank pages of the book I have open in my lap, three other books from the library spread around me as I frown at the mess I've been making across my notes. Writing with my left hand is not a skill I possess, but it's the only usable arm I have at the moment, and I'll go batty with all this information unless I get some of it down on paper.

"Yes, Young Master." He replies in a bland voice, bobbing his balding head towards me and coming towards my bed with silent steps, a tray of bandages and salves in his hands which he sets down on my small desk. Without speaking I begin closing my books- folding the corners down so as to remember my place- and set them off to the side as well. I sigh slightly as he takes my arm up gingerly, looking over the fresh bandages as I know I shouldn't interrupt him, but do so anyways.

"The Lady Impa already came in and changed them this morning, Malvo." I point out, not sure why he comes in every few days and undoes all the wrappings the Princess's Lady puts on me.

"Is that not reason enough to have them changed, Young Master?" I swallow at the level look in his drooping eyes, as I said before; he is not a weak man for all his silence.

I don't say anything else as I let him go about his work, should I really be complaining? The double-dose of fresh salves keeps the pain numbed down so far that I hardly ever feel it anymore, which is a blessing really considering the horrible pain the second breaking caused. But aside from that minor plus for myself, there's really no difference, thus no need for them both to perform the same tasks. They both wrap wounds in exactly the same manner, which is odd considering I always heard Shiekah dress wounds differently than other people... Just with a unique style they've developed over the years. That they both wrap the same makes me a bit curious, but not horribly so.

"I heard one of your sons arrived from home a few days ago, Malvo, is he well?" Malvo and the Lady Impa are alike in many, many ways, but at the same time there are distinct personal differences between the both of them. The Lady Impa is like a mother to the Princess, following her around constantly as a nanny despite her Majesty's age. Malvo on the other hand has three sons of his own, the oldest one being my Cousin's age. They and their mother live with our parents in the northern stretches of the Lannayru Province.

"Yes, Young Master. I am pleased with his performance." Malvo drawls in response, swathing my arm in white gauze and pale green salves. I keep myself from frowning as it's like pulling teeth to get him to say anything at all sometimes. I would tell him not to call me master, but that would be about as effective as telling the candles to burn cold.

"Performance?"

"Your Lord Cousin requested something important of my son last night, and he fulfilled the task exceptionally well." That's certainly a vague answer by consideration, but coming from Malvo I have to be content.

"Um…" I decide to be bold. "I heard that a child was born back home, is that true?" At last, I finally seem to strike on something my cousin's inexplicably devoted servant actually deems fit to respond to. His head twitches just slightly, and his eyes stray from his work almost to my eyes as I ask. From Malvo, that's a lot.

"Yes, Young Master. My first grandson." I feel a wide grin spread across my face before I remember that Malvo is about as responsive as the stone walls around me, but no matter. So long as I don't jar my arm, I can smile as much as I like.

"Malvo, that's wonderful!" I exclaim, wondering how well my father will decorate the house for the new arrival, and how much whining my aunt will make over all the fuss being made over a servant boy's birth. My father sees every new life as new hands to work, thus their arrival is always something to celebrate at home.

"What's his name, Malvo? Please tell me!" I ask; excited now so as to keep from feeling a bit homesick for the complicated and dysfunctional house I left behind for castle life. Malvo is already in the process of piling up the bandages and creams on his small little tray, making to leave as I pause him with the question. If he gives any sort of expression, be it a smile or a sigh or anything human at all, I don't see it as he turns from me and is facing the door before quietly answering me.

"Young Master, his name is Segev."

* * *

Needless to say I've been worked hard by the crew ever since I got my strength back. My weapons have been kept down in the small cabin they've set aside for me, and I've been doing everything from climbing up the crow's nest to swabbing decks. Not at all a pleasant set of tasks; and after two days I've yet to hear a kind or at least polite word from anyone. Ever time I'd turn around there's a dark set of hollow eyes shooting angry looks at me. It's as though I've committed some horrible wrong ever since I set foot on board.

It's not as though I have anywhere to go to either to escape it, if I don't work I won't eat. And since I'm the only one who actually needs food aboard the Fair Lady, the crew seems all too eager to skip tasks concerning that need. I don't quiet know what colour I turned when I was given pickled eggs that first time, but it's the only food on ship that doesn't have to be brought up with a net, cleaned, gutted, and cooked in some way.

Only two days in, and my clothing already crackles with caked on salt and sea-spray. I feel gritty and brittle, my entire body aching numbingly as I honestly haven't done much hard work aside from sword practices and a bit of riding over the past few years. Collapsing onto a lumpy, mold-riddled cot for only two or three hours at time, only to be roused again by a disgruntled skeletal sailor, doesn't give much time to think about why I'm even here to begin with.

My encroaching exhaustion coupled with the enthusiasm of the crew hasn't done much to help my mood, not to mention my meals which can be left wanting. Gritting my teeth and baring it gets harder by the day, and I still don't even know where we're going.

I slit my eyes open lazily, my shoulders screaming in protest as I lever myself up onto my elbows, the cot beneath me at once both hard as stone and yet sinking in to make the position all the more difficult to achieve. In the darkness of the cabin I look towards the creaky door as it jumps and shakes repeatedly with the loud banging on the other side.

"Capin's callin' fer ye, boy!" A gruff voice shouts from beyond the barrier, my eyes drooping shut as I'm tempted to just drop back down in a sore, exhausted heap. Of course, I can't do that, not unless I want the crew given free reign with me, which'd likely end up with my being tossed overboard. I won't dare call the Captain my ally in this experience, as I have a feeling that every now and then he has the same wishes as his crew to leave me bobbing in the waves behind them.

I grunt as numb pain laces up my arms and spreads across my chest, my boots touching down on the wooden planks beneath me as I stand and make my way towards the door with as much speed as my cramped legs can muster. There isn't anything elegant about this ship, and I yank the door open without a word, the hinges squealing angrily where they've begun to rust over after years of disrepair.

"Up on deck, Swabbie. Move yer arse 'fore Cap'in does 'way w'th it instead!" I keep from saying anything as my mouth twists in a sour line. The deckhand looks as scruffy and bitter as his master, and I don't spare him any words as I move past him in the cramped hall, working my way around tight corners and over slick patches of sea grime. The deckhand's boney feet trump along a few paces behind me, but I don't pay him any mind as he isn't about to do anything.

I can't tell whether they let me sleep longer than normal, or if it was just later than I thought when I was finally dismissed and allowed to go collapse in my cabin. I remember stumbling from the pitch black of night into the pitch black of an unlit ship, but all around me now as I reach the upper deck, the horizon is a pale rose colour, and there's plenty of light to see by even without the true sun. There's a salty taste to the air though, one that makes me pause as it isn't the same as normal sea salt…

The captain, as always in his wraith-like blue uniform, is easy to find amongst the blue-bandanas of his crew. I climb the aging black steps up to the deck next to the wheel, and wait for him to face me, his back to his crew and ship as he stares out to sea. There's an island coming closer, the sight of which breaks up the endlessness of the horizon. It takes me a moment before I realize just how close we are to the land, although the island itself is rather small. The jagged lines of sea cliffs and treacherous rocks come into sight as the pre-dawn wind fills the black sails of the _Fair Lady_, steadily pushing her eastbound, and slightly north of the island.

"C'mere, boy." The Captain snarls darkly under his breath, not turning to me as he abruptly holds something out to me from behind. A bronze tube is held between his skeletal fingers, and I take hold of it gingerly, recognizing it as a looking glass and stepping up to the side of the ship. He lifts one arm up and points towards the cliffs, still not looking to me as he speaks.

"Look yonder for yer countrymen's work…" I feel a tingle of warning run down my spine as I catch a definite undertone of anger in the Captain's voice, wetting my lips once before I close my right eye and lift the cold metal of the looking glass up to my left one. The effect is almost dizzying as the Fair Lady also chooses that moment to lurch slightly in the surf. Steadying myself, I saw nothing more than a blur of grey and blue, I try again with a bit more patience, keeping my feet spread so as to brace myself for another wave if it comes.

"The cliffs?" I ask, not sure what I should be looking for. The island suddenly jumps out at me beyond the looking glass, and I swallow as I adjust my focus. I receive only a bitter grunt as an answer from the Captain, and slowly try to accommodate for the movement of the ship, the sway of the waves, and the general dizziness from having the world so suddenly jump ahead around me. When I find what he wants me to see, I feel my head abruptly snap up straight, my eye coming away from the cool lip of the tube as I stare at the distant cliffs in a stunned silence.

No. I didn't see that. Of course not.

Lifting the glass up again, I try to find where I'd looked before, and grit my teeth as what the looking glass shows me this time is no different than what there was before. Swallowing hard, I strain my eye to see farther, looking for details to tell me what exactly I'm seeing.

Hanging from the cliffs are bodies. Corpses strung up over the crashing waves and left to rot as they hang from wrists and necks. I feel sick. Bodies in skirts, bodies too small to be fully grown, even ones that don't even look human, with skin that was once blue with fins that no longer shimmer. Women, children, both Zora and human, their skin slowly turning to leather under the glaring sun and at the mercy the pounding salty spray.

"Who are they?" I breathe, feeling my bile rise and swallowing again to keep it down, my stomach is a tight knot of dread in my stomach, and as I lower the eye glass I look to the Captain. He doesn't move in the slightest, swaying just enough to keep himself steady aboard his ship. In truth, he could be a portion of the deck itself, he's so solid upon it.

"People of Lynna no doubt." He answers gruffly after a moment of thought, and despite all reason I find myself looking through the glass yet again. The Captain's gaze so focused upon the cliffs as we continue to draw near that I don't doubt he can see each and every one of them more clearly than I.

"All the way out here?"

"Aye. Carried on ships by mainland soldiers. 'prolly people from Lynna woods in the west. 'Tis where most those who oppose the Regent flee at first 'fore they find their way out to sea…" I feel cold as he speaks, a forlorn, tired sound entering his voice as we continue to draw ever closer to the forsaken little island.

"They're out here… why?" I ask, removing the glass from my eye and staring down at the sighing blues and greens of the sea below.

"This be where they know we'll see 'em. Goadin' us they are, placin' corpses on cliffs where our ships do sail. Baitin' the people inta real war, instead a' just petty resistance." The Captain finally seems as though he can take the sight of the cliffs no more, his head bowing slightly as he turns away from the display and leans his back against the thick rail of his ship, his long, tattered jacket flowing around him like a wraith's folded wings.

Salvin's doing this. That thought chills me in a way that leaves me hot and wanting to strike something in anger. The sly, smiling man from the Castle, the one who spreads unsightly rumours, acts as though he's the real King of Hyrule instead of a pompous Lord who thinks too highly of himself. I never thought that, given a position of any real power, he could bring a nation down like this, I didn't know he could be so careless, or just mindlessly destructive. It sickens me.

"Run to the sea…" I murmur quietly, rolling the looking glass between my hands, and stewing over my bitter thoughts. I don't know why, but I feel compelled to lift it once more, taking a deep breath to steel myself before looking one final time towards the cliffs. I feel my lungs empty in a shaky rush, feeling chilled down the marrow as my blood runs hot. I feel torn, and it isn't just thoughts of Salvin's actions after all this time that digs into me anymore.

I just… can't believe how he even came to any of this power in the first place. I just can't wrap my mind about how twisted everything must have been woven for Zelda to… For her to choose…

Just, how any of this was allowed to even _happen_.

It's completely by accident, but as I continue to look over the cliffs before us, the ship now close enough for me to hear the rhythmic crashing of the waves on their rocky bases, that I see something which suddenly banishes all thoughts of political schemes and confusing plots from my mind.

"Oh, Farore…" I breathe silently, my vision returning to normal as I lower the glass, both of my eyes wide in shock. This numb sense of disbelief is almost enough to floor me now as the Captain's head twitches, his attention coming back to me although he doesn't look to me in proper.

I can't believe it, and I won't unless I can make sure. Immediately the island jumps back out at me once again, and I feel my breath hiss through my teeth as what the looking glass shows me is no lie.

"He's alive." I whisper hoarsely, and now I have the Captain's complete attention, his eyeless gaze coming to rest on me pointedly.

"What're ye babbling about now, boy?" He grunts in a foul temperament. Numbly, I thrust the looking glass towards him where I'm staring at the sheer rock face without the aid of the tool.

"That one over there, he-" Farore, no. I saw one of them move. One of those bodies hanging from the cliffs, bound by bleeding wrists by bonds of metal and rope. It wasn't the wind, it wasn't the spray, I saw him _move_. Almost instantly, the crushing need for my stomach to empty itself of my sparse meal hours before wells up within me, and I feel my hands shaking as I tightly grip the rail in front of me.

No, Farore, _no!_ To desecrate the dead by stringing their corpses up on sea cliffs is horrible enough in itself. I've seen bodies left hanging from trees with ropes about their necks that killed them. I've come across the remains of entire families, butchered in their homes and left to insects and demon spawn. More than once have I felled foul creatures and watched their companions devour their remains, or do so without even waiting for that fellow to fall before tearing into them. But, beasts devouring people, monsters turning on one another, that isn't the same as men doing this to themselves! Hanging the living by the same bonds as the dead and – it just – _NO! _

"You there! Turn us into the wind, I want away from this cursed sight as fast as possible." The Captain's sharp order so abruptly brings me back to where I am, and I turn towards him knowing there's a stricken look plastered across my face.

"We can't just leave him there!" I say loudly, watching as the Captain's back stiffens noticeably. I've been walking a fine line since my arrival, and I know that putting my foot wrong can very well land me overboard, but I can't keep silent as I challenge his order.

"We have to try and sa-" My words are cut off as I feel the sharp sting of a blade across my face, wincing back despite myself as the Captain's sword –faster than the eye- nicks me across the bride of my nose, and leaves a shallow scratch across my left cheek going down.

"And do what, boy?" He challenges in a chilling tone, contempt lacing each word as he holds his sword out towards me without a single waver to it. I have only my chain mail to keep him from trying to run me through with the blade, no weapon on my person as I can't very well fight him anyways on his own ship.

"And do what?" He repeats, his yellow teeth clicking together as he speaks to me sharply, his crew have all abandoned their duties, and from all levels of the deck are watching the confrontation hungrily. "Save him? Is that what ye want ta say, boy? T'save him? Ye listen here…"

With a flourish, the blade hisses back into its crusty sheath, and he strides towards me boldly until his impressively tall form is looming over me dangerously, my back still up against the rail. His eyeless skull is once again filled with that eerie, black light, and I could swear his skeletal self has breath as I feel the force of an angry sea bearing down on me as he speaks.

"I'll not run my ship against the rocks a' this isle for one lad with broken arms, one lad who was half-starved and beaten a'fore they threw him over the edge to dangle till death. I'll not circle us round for hours to find a beach likely hosting a number a th' Regent's men, and fight a bloody useless battle for a boy who'll be dead a'fore we reach 'im. Go ashore now, boy, and ye stay ashore, I'll not wait for ye, y'll live an die ashore there, or be picked up by th' Regent's men an find yerself killin' yer own countrymen, or tossed o'er the cliffs like th' rest. We sail on, boy."

At last, he gives me room to breathe again, and I find myself shaken by the power in him as I look absently over my shoulder once more, the cliffs coming… so close… I don't want to know how horrible it must be to still be alive, and watch a ship pass by… I don't even hear the orders the Captain starts barking at his crew, hardly hear anything at all until a sharp tug at my sleeve brings my attention around to the sailor before me.

"Cap'in ordered these brought t' ye'." He says gruffly, his skeletal gaze crawling over me in a dark, suspicious manner. I meet that look solidly before I finally look at what he brought me.

The dark, metal-laced length of my bow is clutched in his fleshless hands, along with a number of arrows from my quiver. I feel a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach as I see them, knowing what they're for, but try to tell myself it's something different.

"How does seein' an hearin' all ye have make ye feel, boy?" The Captain didn't go very far, his back to me again as he's standing with one hand on the wheel of his ship, running the tips of his fingers along the handles in a thoughtful manner. "What choices an commitments are ye goin' ta make?"

Choices, commitments… The people Salvin punishes are, by the written law, in the wrong. Labrynna is Hylian Territory now, Salvin is the Hylian Regent, and those who fight against him are, in essence, traitors to the crown, rebels against the law. Undermining his punishments would be… treason… Treason against the crown…

Against Zelda…?

I snatch the weapons from the deckhand in front of me, turning sharply on my heel and looking out to sea, to the cliffs. My hands were shaking before, but as I jam two of the offered arrows into the rail before me, and nock the third one, my movements are deftly solid.

The ship's closer to the island than it ought to be, and I only notice that now as I draw the fletching back to my ear. The soreness of my limbs is completely forgotten now as I hear the water sighing over the threatening rocks in the shallows. Despite the Captain's words he's allowed the ship to stray so close to them by this point that I'm just waiting to hear the groan of the hull against those jagged edges.

Farore, forgive me…

The air whistles at my ear as I let the arrow fly, the taut string of the bow launching the slim shaft in a high ark over the rocks and clear of the waves. Higher and higher, gaining distance and speed as it begins to fall. I'm already prying the other arrows from the rail, able to see the path the arrow will take even with the wind. There isn't even a cry as my shot finds its mark.

The deck is so oddly silent now, the sounds of ropes and planks creaking filling my ears as the damned crew are as specters, silent and all but unseen as they've taken to the least active tasks now. That silence continues to hang in the air as I repeatedly relax and strengthen my hold on my bow.

"Are ye prepared for what comes next, Hero?" For a moment, I don't even realize the Captain's speaking to me. He called me Hero, the title everyone back in Hyrule Castle referred to me by. But now, out here, it sounds so… strange. What makes _me_ a hero?

"The Regent, he has the Oracle of Ages, you told me so yourself." I say numbly, staring blankly across the deck at nothing at all, "Nayru vanished for thirty years, and people say the same of me, and now we're both back after everything's gone to hell." Somehow, re-iterating what I know seems to wake me back up, and I look towards the Captain again, his wheelman once again performing his duties silently as their wraith-like leader stands with his skeletal hands in the pockets of his tattered jacket. He looks… expectant.

"Where are we headed, and when do we get her back?" He doesn't shift in the slightest as I finally pose the question that's been plaguing me.

"Tota Port," He says shortly, the name unfamiliar to me although I try to hide that. "And as soon as we figure out how."

* * *

**Post-Chapter Rant:**

**Dandale was the only Labrynnian knight I gave name; and that was back in chapter five. **

**I want everyone to know that I really, really like Timothy, but that's only because I made him a history nut like me. **

**I used another Baten Kaitos name this chapter.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 17 

By Farore's Howling Winds, I don't need this now. Now of all times, I do not need this. I cannot get sick now, this is just not happening…

"My Lord, aren't you hot in th—Majesty, are you shivering?" I grit my teeth until my jaw begins to hurt, staring at the empty hearth in my chambers and silently wishing it lit. But that would be insanity. It's mid-day and the heat should be stifling, a fire would be ridiculous now. I rub my arms furiously through the thick sleeves of my tunic, one of the ones I wore on the voyage over to keep cold spray and sea winds from chilling me too deeply. It does nothing for me now.

"I know, Ferran, I know, but I can't help it." I say tightly, trying to keep my teeth from chattering as I speak. My hands are like ice as I scratch an itch at my neck. Mourning black, or at least the deep navy blue I was able to dig up, should be more than warm enough in the heat of summer, but I'm _freezing! _

"Majesty, if you're ill you should rest." Ferran suggests timidly, the tall, willowy merchant watching me from the door way as I rub my hands together, trying to warm them back up.

"I'm not sick, Ferran, I can't be." I argue plainly,

"Majesty, you're under too much stress right now." I look to Percy where the small Mayor has been reading over a number of papers at the small desk I've been given for my stay. The three of us were going over numbers before Ferran noticed how warmly I'm dressed for the season.

"Not you too…"

"Ralph, lay down." Despite myself, I blink at Ferran again, the shy, soft-spoken merchant stands with his arms folded across his thin chest. His dark eyes are solidly upon me as his bashful face has that mask-like look to it again. "That is not a suggestion from a Subject to a Prince; it is an order from an older man to a younger one. Rest."

I haven't been spoken to like that for a long time now, and I almost frighten myself what with how alien it feels to be taking orders from someone else. It's an awkward feeling, as though I resent being told what to do by someone who's been bobbing his head to me and giving me titles for weeks now. I almost slap myself for the awkwardness though, and force myself to cross the room back over to the bed, tugging my boots off before I pull the covers back; dropping the short cape I've been wearing onto a nearby chair before I climb in.

That resentment doesn't fade.

"I'll send for the kitchens to bring you some lunch." I find myself nodding stiffly to Ferran although his tone didn't leave room for me to deny him anyways. I feel irked by his manner and try to crush the feeling as the red-haired merchant turns and leaves the chamber. It's not like me to be so high-strung, and I feel uncomfortable in my own skin as that unsettled feeling won't go away.

"You _**are**_ under too much stress, Majesty." Percy comments after a moment of tense silence, shuffling the papers in his hands before adjusting the thin spectacles sitting on his nose. His white and blue striped shirt is pressed and starched in a manner that's perhaps more stiff than I've associated him with over the years, the collared article tucked into the dark blue of his trousers where the small man's buckled shoes have a fresh coat of polish. His hair is still oiled back, but he's just… mellowed… since we finally settled ourselves into the castle. He actually looks and acts like a Mayor now, not some bumbling, whimpering fool.** T**_his_ is why I brought him with me. Ferran knows the ins and outs of every business deal, but Percy is calm with the law and sly with his words- given the proper subject of course.

"Can I be blamed?" I ask bluntly, absently plucking at loose threads which hang from the edges of the thin summer quilt over my legs. I feel no warmer for it, suppressing a shudder as a chill goes down my back. Damn it, I can't get sick!

"Of course not. If anything, I blame the King." I blink at that, confused as Percy lifts one of the parchments up higher, squinting at the cramped text scrawled across it.

"The King?" Percy doesn't sigh so much as he makes a small sound in his throat before dropping the page back into the pile in his lap. Looking to me, he picks the thin frames of his spectacles off of his face.

"Dandale, Arthur, Accolon, Gwydion, Adolphus…" I flinch and close my eyes, looking away from the Mayor's calm form as I could hate him for how easily he lists off the five names. "Five murders –six, including the Zora Official- all on the same night by the same person, or persons, within a castle which boasts tight and heavy security at all hours. My Prince, be reasonable…"

"Yes, I see your point, I know…" I reply in a husky voice, drawing my knees up towards me and leaning on them where I sit on the bed. The crime itself is so suspicious in nature that I've caught myself looking over my shoulder repeatedly over the past few days. It's improper, but where my boots are sitting on the floor now there are two small knives hidden, and I flex my arms slightly to feel the straps which hold two longer daggers on my person.

"I don't like the replacements, Majesty…" There's a low tone in Percy's voice as he mentions this, and I look back to him without accusation. Can I tell him I disagree? No, I suppose I can't, I've come to learn that the walls have ears here, and doors are the mouths with which they speak…

"You want to go home…" I say softly, and again, I can't find it within me to disagree. As he nods, I sigh and hang my head as though in defeat. Of all the progress made in the weeks I've been here, I don't know what to think now. That one last slip of paper I've been striving for is just beyond my grasp, but with this threat looming in the halls I just… don't know.

Going home now would be such a grand weight off of my shoulders. Away from cryptic conversations and nasty little glares, Hyrule Castle is just as twisted on the inside as I thought it would be. It's so like Lynna Castle of the past, but worse since not only am I now one of the central players, but I'm not even in my own lands…

"There's a banquet tomorrow night." I murmur softly, rubbing one of my eyes with the heel of my other hand. "I don't remember what it's for… for the men probably, as some sort of apology; as though lifting a glass to me could fix anything now…" Gods, that's such a sick idea, I feel drained just mulling over how probable it is that the King actually thinks his apology _would_ be enough. It isn't, but I can't name anything that would be anyways…

"It's… far past time we returned home. I'll try and name a suitable date, and bring it up to him either at the dinner or the day after…" Farore, when we arrived I was worried about finding another horse to replace the mount that died in the city… now I don't know what to do with all the extra animals and baggage…

I look to the door at the gentle knock from beyond it. Percy gestures for me to remain in bed as he sets the papers aside and walks towards it. Opening it, Ferran is standing promptly with a covered tray. He looks puzzled as he steps inside.

"That was certainly fast." Percy comments curiously, and I watch as the merchant looks to be chewing the inside of one cheek; something he only does when thinking over something absently.

"The meal was already on its way; I met the man in the hall and sent him off to whatever other duties he has." He answers, and I lift one brow curiously. I know the kitchen to be prompt with its service, but not to anticipate orders. Well, it doesn't seem to be that strange really…

"I didn't recognize him though… or rather, I did, just not from the kitchens." I can't help but roll my eyes as Ferran continues to stand in the doorway to the antechamber like a puzzled statue. There are so many servants running around this castle I have a hard time keeping any of them straight at all. I haven't even seen hide nor hair of Link's squire since the poor boy broke his arm, so the only face I could ever hope to recognize amongst the reds and greens of the castle livery has been effectively taken away from me.

"Maybe they just rotate duties?" I suggest absently, gesturing for him to just come inside and be done with it. I'm not especially hungry, but since the food's here, I might as well eat…

"Will we be returning via ship, Majesty?" Percy questions, earning a quick glance from Ferran as the tray is finally passed over to me. He seems curious, but not overly surprised with the change in topic.

"I'm not sure…" I answer softly, recalling the days of riding it took to reach the capital from the coast. Too go such a long ways alone without a guide… I don't think I'd feel at all safe with any of the castle guards coming with us, ten of them have already been selected as a replacement force for me since the… incident. They seem nice enough, simple soldiers, but I just don't feel… safe…

"Going north would take us into Goron Territory, and you still haven't met with Darunia…" Ferran adds patiently, and I uncover the thick soup and crusty role the kitchen sent up for me. It's only mid-day, so it isn't as though I was expected to dine with anyone else. I nod slightly as I fan some of the steam away, the food smells delicious, but I pay attention to the conversation none the less.

"'_Any day now'_, he says, I don't see much harm in taking the land route…" I comment, mockingly quoting that stupid Fairy Boy from when he said the Goron Patriarch would roll down to meet with me. "I could look in on how the roads are going as well, it'll be slower, but… I think a long ride might do some good…"

"We can make a good impression with the Gorons by visiting their cities along the way, and Sunken would appreciate the gesture of good will if you stayed a day or two. You never went north when we visited Hollodrum…"

"The Continental Trail and the North West and North East roads could all be looked in on without taking much time, Majesty. After Sunken we could stop in Symmetry, and then continue on to the Rolling Ridge in the East."

"That's easier travel anyways, going all the way east and then riding south into Lynna city…" Spooning a bit of the warm soup into my mouth, I pause thoughtfully to consider just how saddle-sore and cranky I'll likely be before we ride wearily into Lynna again. Summoning the _Fair Lady_ would take a few days in itself, but is still an option. I have the old ship's bell which the Captain gave me years ago, it's tucked away with my things here within the castle. Link once found it in Holodrum during one of his journeys, and it, somehow, has the ability when rung to draw the _Fair Lady_ to it from whatever corner of the sea she resides in.

Of course, it doesn't make her come any faster than normal, so depending on where the Captain's ventured to since I was dropped off, he could be anywhere from three days to three weeks away.

In any light, I don't quiet know if I'd feel right taking ashes of dead men onto a ship crewed by those unable to die… And traveling by land just… seems the better way to go politically anyway… I just want to go home.

"It's decided then." I say, watching as two of my only remaining companions, -my scribe's locked himself away in the library and trailing other scholars around the castle for days now-, look to me from their conversation.

"We'll leave within the next three days, and then travel through the mountains home to Labrynna."

* * *

Crescent Island, as I remember it, was a lush, tropical island far to the south east of Labrynna's coast. Far enough away to not be bothered by the mainland's politics, the strange, lizard-like inhabitants of the island were rather accommodating to me years ago. Of course, that friendliness really only came after a very long discussion about stealing, and why it's wrong.

I remember rocky coastlines leading immediately into thick, wet jungle. The air so heavy with the summer heat you could swim through it, but with so many waterfalls and rivers zigzagging across it that relief was never more than a stone's throw away. I remember leaches and insects galore, which certainly didn't make my stay very enjoyable. But white sandy beaches, glorious sunsets, and savoury fruits and meats can make up for almost anything. The home of the Tokaies, truth be told, was probably the most exotically beautiful place I'd ever seen. And although I know that I'm somewhere within the future, I've been holding high hopes for the island that hardly changed in five hundred years.

I suppose that wasn't a very good idea…

"Report!!" The Captain caws out from where he stands by the wheelman on the Fair Lady's higher deck, his crew running madly about grabbing lines, tying knots and undoing loops in a frenzy they pushed me out of immediately. I look up the tall masts of the ship and see the blue bandana of the crewmember even in the dim light of dawn.

"Red on th' 'orizon, Sir! Tota's in flames!"

"Damn it all, the wind's against us!" I've been standing at the stern of the ship for a long while now, the massive, black hulk of Crescent island looming threateningly to the right, or starboard, side of the vessel. The island is huge by all measure, several days of arduous hiking through thick jungle and weak cliffs from one side to the other. It was visible on the horizon for hours before I went back below decks to try and sleep, and now in the dawning light it crawls next to us slowly.

The wind the Captain's cursing about, every now and again I catch a whiff of something worrying; I catch the scent of smoke. Something, somewhere, is defiantly burning.

"Ship on th' 'orizon, Cap'in! Ship on th' 'orizon! White sails! Red crest! Regent's men, Cap'in!" Many people who know my deeds but not me personally think that there's nothing in the world that can frighten me. Those who_ do_ know me know that it actually doesn't take much to scare me halfway to death and back. Going forward with something despite fear is what makes courage. Not feeling any sense of warning or hesitation, and never once feeling an ounce of fear means you were dropped on your head as a child and are a soulless demon that's likely to lose his or her life in some sort of very swift and messy manner.

As the Captain of the _Fair Lady_, a cursed man who was once the lover of an ancient Queen, whose bones are all that remain of his earthly form as his soul is bound by black magics and blacker hatred, turns to me, I am well and truly scared out of my wits. His quicksilver blade is positioned directly between my eyes before I can even summon the strength to flinch, staring past the blade and into his smoldering gaze as he speaks to me in a deathly calm voice.

"Git yer swords, git yer shield, git yer bow, yer arrows, an anythin' else ye can fight with, boy." I nod rigidly at his order, the sword slamming back into its sheath as I've honestly been waiting for him to allow me to carry something around to defend myself with. Twice now that sword's cut into me, although only with shallow nicks, and now I'll be glad to have some manner of weapon on me to counter it. The bare instant he turns from me I all but fly down the deck stairs and swiftly make my way through the cramped turns of the lower decks.

When I reach my small cabin, I only fight with one sword but find both of them swiftly strapped to my back. I know deep down that I couldn't bare it to strike down simple soldiers with the Master Sword. Hylian or no, Salvin or no, I can't see men following orders as evil. Weak in character or moral strength, perhaps, but not evil. I can't help it if the sword refuses to stay behind, almost seeming to hum within its scabbard in the corner as I make to turn away without it. The Master Sword just thrums with disapproval until I give in and secure the bonds over my shoulder, I won't fight with it, but I know I can't leave it behind.

"_Hey!_"

It's so quiet, but as I place my hand on the door to swing it open again, I freeze once as a soft voice calls to me. Spinning, I don't know what it was, but I quickly open the drawer to the small desk which cramps the compartment even more than the cot. The soft, milky light of the fairy still confined within the glass bottle shines up at me, and within the casing she bobs back and forth as an orb of light, clearly still displeased.

"Right, sorry, I forgot." I say hurriedly, not receiving a reply as I slip the thick neck of the bottle through one of the loops at my belt, tugging it a few times to make sure it won't come loose before I'm finally ready to get back out on deck.

I step out of my cabin only just in time to have the ship abruptly pitch to the side, nearly unbalancing me as I clutch the doorway tightly and wait for the vessel to right itself again. I can hear pounding footsteps all around me as the crew is scrambling madly on all decks, and quickly find myself running down the cramped halls before finally coming back to the map room and then out once more onto the deck.

"_Hard to port!!_" The Captain's strong voice rings out over the clamor of the crew as they continue to haul ropes, although as I step out again I look down at the deck I can tell the frenzy isn't limited to the upper levels. Below me are a number of iron grates which look down into the hold directly under the main deck, and I can see more crew members crowding around working furiously with long metal cylinders attached to wheels and pulled back and forth with thick long ropes... Cannons.

The reason for their readying the guns is clear as I look out across the port, or left, side of the ship; another vessel is fast approaching us as the sun is only just daring to rise over the waves to the east. I know little enough of ships so can say nothing really of the one bearing down on us, but the detail which catches my eye are the sails, which is likely the intent. Large, white sails decorate the three masts of the ship which is similar in size to the _Fair Lady_, a giant red lion sitting in the center of each massive sheet, three golden triangles placed around it at the head and on both sides.

That… isn't the Royal herald…

In a rush, I watch as those sails are immediately dropped, the wind still blowing in against the Fair Lady from the bow, and threatening to just push the other vessel straight past us. I don't think there can be any clearer sign than that to say they're looking for a fight. I won't kid myself with saying they just want to talk, I'm not naïve.

I hear my breath hiss past my teeth as all sound slowly drains from the air; both ships angling themselves in close to one another, thus the sharp tilt the _Fair Lady_ took while I was below decks. We're so close in fact I can see the predawn light shining off of burnished helms all in the Hylian design. I feel sick. The silence is so deafening. Are they actually just going to say something?

The answer to my question is as a deep thunderclap. The air abruptly charging itself with tension before it releases itself oh-so suddenly with blinding clouds of acrid white smoke. The inner sides of both vessels smoking as I can feel the sounds of cannon fire shoot through my veins; it's a terrifying sensation.

All around me utter chaos suddenly breaks out, men –undead and not- shouting orders to one another in an absolute frenzy. Down below the men are working to reload the guns, and here on deck what deckhands aren't armed with menacing cutlasses hold shining grappling hooks. Metal and rope fly through the air as I duck swiftly back into the navigation and mapping room as a volley of arrows hisses past where I was standing a moment before. I close my eyes, and take two calming breaths.

This is a battle. Outside are men who will kill me without any questions. Even if they only capture me, what is there to keep Salvin from doing away with me thirty years after he last saw me alive? Why would he even believe see me for who I am? After all I've been shown already, I can't find any way of convincing myself that I of all people would be able to work some sort of reasoning out of him.

I was reaching for my knight's sword when I ducked inside, but drop my hand from the hilt as I reach for my bow instead. Removing it from my shoulder, I grip the handle strongly before reaching for my quiver and drawing forth my first arrow. This is a battle. Just like any other. I will fight as I am supposed to, as I always have; to stay alive, and to earn the right to return home.

I feel a sharp, burning heat ripple through me from my left hand, a smile coming unbidden to my lips which quickly vanishes as that heat doesn't leave me. In a deft motion, I nock the arrow on the string, side-stepping back out into the sights of the archers on the other ship as I draw the fletching back to my ear in a practiced motion.

This arrow is not like the one I shot days before at a man who could only wish for a merciful strike. This arrow burns with the intent to defeat my enemies, to preserve the lives of those around me and hinder those who stand against me. As I loose my shot the arrow doesn't fly up in an ark, but dead straight across the gap between the two ships. Flames spread like the wings of an enraged falcon; the bold creature who _should_ adorn their vessel if they really _did_ sail under the Hylian King or- as it stands now- Queen. I have a second arrow nocked and drawn as Din's fire spreads rapidly over the other deck where the first wooden shaft finds its place in a dying soldier's throat.

Although the fire of the first arrow is too short-lived to truly catch on anything, the second one is aimed over the heads of the men and their threatening grappling hooks and crossbows. Bolts hiss past my ear and splinter wood behind me as I loose the second shot towards the bundled sails over their heads, flying straight and true as the one before it. At once, panicked cries flare up across the gap as the arrow doesn't stop when it strikes the bundled sails; continuing straight through on its path as the flames eat through the material.

The grappling hooks are not meant to be removed or hacked off by either side. Most of the soldiers I can see are not archers, or crossbow men, in fact the ranged attacks are coming from beyond a wall of shields and armor; men who fight with swords and are waiting for the gap to close so they can truly fight. Likewise, as the cannonfire roars deafeningly through the air a second and then a third time; the shots are now broken up and no longer uniform as each troop of men race to arm their gun as fast as possible and fire off as many rounds as they can.

"Don't let th' boy do all th' work, ye filthy swines!" The Captain caws from the upper deck, and I loose my third and fourth arrows onto the other ship; raining crimson flames upon the ranks and causing men to fall shrieking with burns. A nagging sensation in the back of my head starts up, but I keep my stance and arms strong, the ships swiftly beginning to come closer to one another as both sides are reeling in on their lines.

Five arrows gone, five left. I didn't have a full quiver when I reached the Temple of Time, and many of the ones I did have at the time have since been lost due to my arrival and the general lack of care for my things by the crew.

Planks, that's how the soldiers want to board the _Fair Lady_. I can see them already picking up long planks of wood to span the shrinking gap. And although I know the crew on this side also want face-to-face combat, they're lighter. They can jump distances the soldiers in their armor can't, and my sixth arrow fires straight through the first procession of men bringing one such bridge forwards.

Pain. I hiss sharply past my teeth again and bite off a livid curse as fire that isn't at all like mine laces up and around my right arm below the shoulder. Swiftly I duck back within the map room, dropping what would have been my seventh arrow as its flames splutter out and leave the tip blackened on the deck.

Red and gold are the colours of Hyrule, not red and white. If anything at all the fletching on the arrow protruding from my arm should have some form of blue to it, this is _**Labrynna**_ after all. The sight of the colors that don't match either nation makes my blood boil, and I grit my teeth as I snap off the offensive colours. I can't pull the arrow out now; it would only bleed faster and cause me to lose strength sooner than the arrowhead itself will do to me. Besides, it's only the right arm.

Lighter, faster, I look out the open door and see the damned crew leaping forwards already. The ship rocks violently back and forth in the surf as both vessels are stationary in the waves, cannons still firing back and forth at one another despite the tense proximity between the two ships. Outside I can watch as the sour white smoke billows up the gap between the ships like a furious geyser.

The Master Sword is thrumming again, as though the blade knows there's a battle taking place now and wishes desperately to be a part of it. I can't, or maybe just won't, allow that though. It is a sword of Evil's Bane, and those men are not evil! I reach over my shoulder with my left arm and draw the plain, but strong sword from the armory back home, gritting my teeth as my shield falls over my right arm with practiced security. I leave both my bow and quiver on the floor and bolt back outside, I won't need them in this fight.

Lighter and faster. I'm still clad in riding leathers and chain mail, heavily armed despite dropping both bow and quiver, but I'm still lighter by far than any of the soldiers in their thick armor. My blood is pounding through my ears in a rush of battle fever as I charge towards the edge of the _Fair Lady's_ deck, jumping onto her solid rail and kicking off on one foot to join the fray already well underway on the blackened and burnt decks of Salvin's ship.

The moment my feet touch down on the deck I find someone already bearing down on me. I can't look to see his face as I bring my shielded arm up reflexively to deflect the strike, metal shards flying from the blade as the two collide. The strength of the blow is unexpected though, and I find myself buckling down on one knee. Gritting my teeth, I force myself up again and jump forwards at him with the shield still out. The metal of his armor slams hard against my shield and it jars him back unexpectedly, I don't even surprise myself as crimson runs down my blade so soon; the point wedging itself through the openings of his helm with a sickening squelch.

The next one comes at me from behind while my sword is still lodged into the face of the first soldier, and I tear the blade out as swiftly as I can. Leaning my weight back on my right heel, I feel a wordless battle cry tear past my lips as I turn sharply, using my own weight, momentum, and strength to slash down and across. I've fought armored foes before, and crimson sprays from the exposed sections of his neck and shoulder as my plain blade finds its mark. I don't flinch as some of that hot red splatters across my face.

I turn only just in time to lift my sword to catch the incoming blade aimed to take my head right off. It's only through pure luck that as my boots abruptly slide across the deck that I hit nothing that can unbalance me or throw me to the ground. But the blades lock almost instantly, and I need both hands on the hilt to keep from being tossed back. Even if I wanted to see this one's face, the visor from his helm is down, and all I can see are a pair of wide, fevered eyes through the narrow slit he has in his face guard.

"Kyaaah!" I feel my eyes go wide as the cry again comes from behind me, heavy footsteps thumping behind me over the noise of the battle going on around us, cannons continuing to fire off even now. I can't move.

I hear nothing but the quick hiss of steel slicing through air before those fevered eyes before me are suddenly focused beyond me at something else. The dull thunk behind me signals another to count amongst the wounded or dead.

A very familiar blade fires past my left ear just as I'm about to take advantage of my opponent's distracted state and shove him back. Again, hot crimson strikes my face, the tip of the Captain's blade firmly biting into the flesh beyond the thin eye slit the soldier was staring through. As the blade is withdrawn the body falls to the deck with crimson pouring from the sealed helm.

"Don't let me save yer hide again, boy!" The wraith-like Captain caws, although he almost looks like he's smiling as I look breathlessly over my shoulder at him, his eyeless gaze traveling over the masses of armored men and skeletal pirates cutting into one another. Although, there's considerably more success amongst the undead who don't bleed verses the living who can.

In a whirl of bone, energy, and tattered clothing, the skeletal man is gone again, his sword bingeing deeply and effortlessly on the blood of any solider foolish enough to come within range of his strikes. He is as a demon, a true being of death...

I have no time to watch him of course, my shield keeping my head on my shoulders one again, and cutting through the exposed throat of yet another solider as I swing my right arm out with the sharp edge of the shield at just the right level. Another one with his exposed back to me; my sword plunges deeply into his spine just at the base of his neck, killing him instantly, perhaps even painlessly.

Fighting monsters, fighting men, it's exactly the same if they're trying to kill you. But I don't revel in any of it. If anything, I feel a deep, sickening sense of hatred for the entire ordeal.

But that doesn't keep me from fighting. It never has, and it never will until I either die fighting or am too old to lift a sword any longer.

Unspelled blades of steel cannot harm the undead, and although a large slash opens up across my left thigh, and one knife-wielding man comes close enough to snake his blade through a weak point in my mail, this battle is ours. I watch as one of the Captain's men is run right through with a blade, only to lift his cutlass up and dispatch the stunned, perhaps even horrified soldier without breaking stride.

Finally… after the sun is nearly half-way over the far eastern horizon, the fighting just stops…

"Load the munitions an' powder unta th' _Fair Lady_, boys." The Captain orders in a coy manner; more pleased now than I've seen him since I arrived as he primps and struts along the deck of the now captured ship. Like the only rooster in a large chicken coop… Blessedly, I'm excused from the order where I've all but collapsed against the rail of the so far unnamed ship. My fever has passed, and all the aches and pains are coming to me where in battle they were little more than an eerie tingling sensation.

If a sword could have true feelings, I would honestly relate the Master Sword's aura to that of utter dejection and disappointment. My left hand is still numbly gripping the hilt of my other blade; blood-spattered and laying listlessly on the deck next to me.

The survivors from the crew are all on their knees before the Captain, their hands bound behind their backs and those bonds in turn connected to every other man in the line. There's perhaps around seven… Including a man so covered in badges he can be nothing less than a Flag Officer…

"Traitors, the lot of you!" The Officer splutters, his face red with indignation, his anger centered most heatedly on the Captain. "You! Cursed whore-son! You could have been Commodore! You could have served a _real_ leader, but you abandoned all your vows to be nothing more than a cursed pirate once more! Filthy Rebel Scum!" Somehow, I don't have the strength nor will to dissuade the Captain from promptly removing a tooth from the Officer's jaw, although I do wince in sympathy as he's left to pick himself back up without his hands, mouth bleeding profusely.

I'd been wondering about that actually, Ralph gave the Captain a title and a set of duties within Lynna, and now here he is undermining the Hylian Regent. Oh, I can figure out the why and the how easily enough; sickened by Salvin's tyranny no doubt, and just sailed off one day or night with his crew never to reappear on friendly terms again. I'm not one to look for the underlying truth in things, sadly enough. This is far more something Timothy or Zelda would be interested in, wanting to know the full story from all angles, half-dead as I am now from exhaustion and a few still-bleeding wounds, I'm content with just the jist of things… Priorities…

"See here, lad…" The Captain replies in a chilling tone, his fleshless hand reaching out and snatching up the chin of the officer in front of him. "I cunna take kindly ta those who'd attack a sleepin' city tha'd done no wrong." Sleeping city..?

"You, you, you--! _You!_ Filthy maggot! Betraying your own people, dare you hold the shield of knighthood, and kill your own brothers with it!!" I watch as the Officer is suddenly no longer acting as though the Captain exists, working himself up into a red-faced furry as he glares furiously at me across the deck. His thick body is heaving up and down with the force of his anger, nostrils flaring like an enraged pig.

The Captain just growls and grinds his teeth, clearly he dislikes being ignored. Dropping the man's face, I watch with no energy as he glides towards me ethereally. As he stops before me, I realize I have to get up, and use my bloodied knight's blade to steady myself as I do so, my right arm throbbing painfully as I still haven't tended to any of my wounds.

"Shield a' knighthood…" I feel my eyes widen despite myself as the Captain's hands are suddenly on my shield, and I grunt with pain as he suddenly rips it from me with surprising force. I nearly bite through my lip at the flash of fire up my arm, that arrowhead still embedded in the muscle.

"Tis a fine piece a' armor…" The Captain comments and I watch him closely despite my arm as he turns the metal sheet over repeatedly between his hands. He examines the scratched and bent surface of the shield, the red enamel of my King's Falcon is chipping in places, and the burnished gold of the Triforce lacks proper polish. It's not as though I don't take care of it, the shield's just old…

I gasp in surprise and quickly find myself leaning over the ship's rail as, with a careless toss of his arm, my shield is in the air and vanishes with a splash into the green-blue waters below. Oddly enough, as I look back towards the assembled men, and the Captain, I don't feel angry, or even insulted. The gesture however is more than enough to silence the captured officer, his face oddly pale and his eyes hollow as I can look back down and see no sign of the splash where the waves stole the shield into their cold shadows. The sentimental value of it, I'll admit, has always been rather great to me… but…

I suppose that, since Hyrule gave up on me so easily, I might as well give up on it as well.

* * *

**NO! Link's fairy does not have a name! She doesn't not have a personality! She is not a character! She spoke once, and if I have my way she shall not speak again! She will not be let out of the bottle! She will not hide in Link's hat! She will not offer Link hints on his adventure! She will not talk smack about people behind their backs! She is only a **_**she **_**because I find it hard to think of a floaty ball of light that heals you as being masculine! **

**And I didn't skip the battle this time! Or at least not all of it! Fire arrows rock…**


	18. Chapter 18

**…I really hate this story. I keeps giving me ideas for little off-shot stories to write later. At the moment I have one involving Nayru- which looks like, if written, it'll need a sequel of it's own-, another explaining how Zelda's parents came to power AND another one just showing Ralph and Nayru growing up, what Ralph did during Oracle of Ages, and what happened after the games... _CRAP._ **

**Wheee, Hyrule!**

**

* * *

**

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 18 

"Father?" I call softly, the doors to my father's antechamber closing silently under my gloved hands as I step inside. I would not be surprised now if he were not here, although he did send for me.

My father has been in a furiously dark mood for days now, and for very just cause. Ralph has been distant and resentful ever since the chilling discovery in the Water Corridor days ago, shying away from everyone including myself and remaining in his chambers. All negotiations between his vassals and my father's lords have ground to a painful stop, and the entire castle is charged with a frightened energy.

Link's summons bodes terribly with the people, and news of the murders has spread through the city like wildfire. Wars have started over less, and war now is what the people are suddenly terrified of. I know better of course, as do most of us here within the castle; Ralph has been made a Prince, but he will never be a warlord. He's too practical, too sensible, too new to his power and content with whatever small political victories he can gain.

I quickly step to the side as the handle rattles behind me, folding my hands behind my back as the door swings open and my father strides inside. His voice preceding him by a number of steps.

"A riot to greet him, murders to keep him company! This is nothing more than a disgrace, Ladekhan! He'd feel more welcome if we simply strung him up by his ankles and beat him half to death!" My father's face is a deep red under the white of his beard, a few silvery strands held firmly in one hand as he tugs on it furiously. He has abandoned his thick coat now that summer has truly come, a full silk shirt with golden cords at the throat tuck into his crimson trousers, his short black boots striking sharply against the polished floor as he enters. My father is a calm, collected man, but when his calm temper is roused he is a true beast. I am only thankful that I am not in the wrong with him, although growing up it often fell to Impa to discipline me.

"Father," I say, greeting him with a polite curtsy despite his mood, spreading my Sapphire skirts as his tirade ends with him staring at me in surprise. I do not take this to heart of course, my father often does forget when he summons me, forgetting that I'm waiting in his chambers or study for him. I've lost count over the years of how many afternoons and evenings I've wasted waiting for him to remember me. It used to cause me a great deal of distress as a child, being made to wait patiently in a room where I wasn't allowed to touch anything for hours on end.

"I will continue to have my men comb through the palace, Majesty." My father and I both look behind him to where Sir Ladekhan's deflated form stands in the doorway. Clad in his red tunic, gold cords looped around his shoulders as a sign of his office, my father's large General is anxiously spinning the large silver and sapphire ring about his thick finger. Most of the blame concerning how little is actually known about the terrifying murders in the Water Corridor has fallen to him. I do not pity him however; the safety of the royal family and our guests falls solely to him in times of peace, and he has failed in that duty.

Worryingly, a number of men have already been proven to have turned blind eyes to the crimes in exchange for money, or possibly favours. Servants talk, and those loyal to my father have come forwards and already named names since the bodies appeared.

Of those who came forwards only those my father swears to be trustworthy still maintain their positions. The rest have been let go with lump sums of money as severance, a turncoat is impossible to pick out from those simply obeying their morals. Of the names that have been given, those men are now all sitting in the castle's lower levels, in prison cells I have never had the misfortune of visiting. They are awaiting trials, and unless they can prove their innocence, the gallows. They will have been proven traitors after all.

"Yes, you shall. Bring any new information to me at once- at _once_, Ladekhan." My father's voice is heatedly firm, his face having mellowed to see me, but his nostrils flaring once more as he eyes his friend closely while speaking. "I want the name of the one, or ones, who committed these vile acts. Nayru alone knows the outrage King Zora will feel when he learns of this- if he has not already! If the Prince calls upon you for anything- by Farore's Winds **_anything_**, Ladekhan!- you will meet his request above even mine own! Go now! And do as I have said!"

"At once, Majesty!" Despite his deep sense of unease and the sweat glistening across the old soldier's face, Sir Ladekhan performs a flawlessly deep bow to my father from the hall just beyond the doorway. As he straightens, he gives me an obedient salute.

"Princess." I merely nod.

He has the decency at least to shut the door before departing, and once the latch clicks shut I feel my father's hand grasp my wrist with surprising strength. Look to him and note how he is suddenly bent in an odd way, a look of pain crossing his face as I quickly move so as to hold both his elbow and hand, helping him forwards.

"You should not push yourself so hard, Father." I say gently, only to have him shake his head in reply, setting the gold loop askew about his graying temples.

"This is not something to be taken sitting down, child." He responds gravely, and I reduce the urge to remind him that I have done nothing simply because he has left nothing for me to do. I find it quite possible that he has no intention of allowing my presence at any of the impending executions, which is an outrageous idea. I do not feel at all comfortable with the barbaric acts which must take place in order to uphold the law, but being absent from such a spectacle would make me look weak.

I may be a woman, but I have every intention to take my place as Queen- with or without a Royal husband!- when the time comes. Appearing delicate and weak would not do at all for me.

"I am glad you are here though, Zelda…" I pry my attention away from my own thoughts as my father speaks, settling himself into one of the thick, red upholstered chairs which is set up across his game board from another seat. "I've been meaning to speak with you for a time now. Please, have a seat." As he easily gestures towards the chair across from him, I nod respectfully before gliding forwards, crossing my ankles once I'm seated and folding my gloved hands in my lap.

I must admit that I have in fact been a bit worried about my father for a while now. Ever since that quite dinner between the two of us before the Prince's arrival, he's seemed so reserved, almost unsure of himself when speaking to me. Needless to say, it has put a bit of strain onto our already very formal relationship, as I don't quite know what to expect from him anymore. I doubt he even knows what he's doing sometimes what with his words slow to form, and how he often stops in the middle and re-iterates whatever it was he was trying to get across to begin with… It's all so strange from him…

"I see you are wearing the Prince's colours…" My father comments, and I lift one gloved hand, bringing the thick length of my braided hair over my shoulder and toying with the golden ends absently.

"It seemed appropriate, all things considered." I don't know why it seems as though I need to explain the dark blues of my skirts, I'll admit I'm a tad partial to the colour on my own.

"Understandable…" I carefully watch as my father pauses, the furious red tint to his face having faded by now, his tongue wetting his lips absently under the white of his beard. "May I ask how things are between yourself and the young Majesty…?" That question came out… oddly… I don't think he knew how exactly to word it, what exactly it is he wanted to ask me. As it stands, I can only take him at his word and try to answer honestly…

"Distant, I'm afraid to say…" I cannot keep the frown from crossing my features as I say that. "We've hardly spoken at all since… it happened…" Since his men were found murdered in my own family's home… I note my father's frown and can only assume he is mulling over the travesty once more.

"Impa tells me you have been fairly distant yourself lately…"

"Yes, I suppose I have been…" I suppress a sigh as yet again my father has gone to my nurse instead of me to learn of my habits. But, have I been distant? Of course I have, not that I mean to be of course. Ever since the bells became silent in the Temple- as always, now again even the normal chimes are silent, no matter how much effort is put into yanking on the cords- I've been slow to speak to anyone. I began to make up for my silence when Ruto arrived, and was able to continue speaking regularly with Ralph, but after the deaths…

It's selfish of me, but despite it all my focus hasn't been centered on Ralph as it should be. We weren't well acquainted in Labrynna years ago, but over the weeks I like to think that we've managed to become friends, yet still I don't find myself looking for opportunities to speak with and perhaps comfort him. Instead, I constantly find myself walking in circles through the castle; down to the knight's training yards, peaking into the stables, glancing over my shoulder and around corners, searching my gardens. All of it endlessly looking for someone who I know isn't here anymore.

The castle simply feels… empty… when Link isn't around, popping into things unexpectedly with his wide grins and childish behavior. It's as though there are suddenly too many hours in the day, and come evening it feels like I've forgotten something very important. It makes me feel…

"Zelda…" I didn't notice my eyes falling from my father to the hand curled in my lap. And I sit here staring at my own glove as though I don't recognize it before looking up to my father again. The insecurity in his eyes seems gone for now, and I see a look of clear understanding slowly dawning within them. Does he see something in me that I haven't recognized yet?

"Forgive me, child… But that look in your eyes… it hurts for me to see it there…"

"Father?"

"You look so… lonely…" That word; lonely. Yes, that's the word I've been searching for.

"Things were… better… before all of this, I suppose." I felt so empty when Ruto left so soon after Link's carefree persona was stolen away by the bells. Ralph is still here, but he's far too busy dealing with his own problems; I haven't the heart to disturb him and try to ease my own discomfort with petty conversation. Impa has also been called by duty, combing the halls and offering what information she gathers about the dark actions within the castle to Sir Ladekhan's men. And my father…

Well, I learned young not to put much stock into my father's memory. Unless he sends for or expects me, it's rare for him to find the time to do much more than offer me a few words and a pat on the head- when I was little at least- or the hand as it has become in recent years.

"I'm sorry, Zelda." I quickly rise from my seat as my father pushes himself to his feet out of his own chair. "I have not always been… perfect... have not always been there for you. I assure you, Impa has made me well away for my shortcomings over the years." He walks towards me as he speaks, and I feel the need to drop my eyes, my gaze falling to his feet as I feel my lips tug up in a tiny smile.

"Impa is to harsh sometimes, Father," I reply, not lifting my gaze from the floor as I speak, my hands clasped in front of my skirts so as to keep from fidgeting them. "You are always busy and with good reason, I've never held that against you." Well, not in recent years perhaps, it's difficult to truly impress the idea of duty and obligation onto a young child or a less-than-forgiving adolescent. But I'm not a little girl anymore.

"There just hasn't always been ti-"

"Time is a poor excuse for me to use, Zelda; I've had many years to make things right, and I haven't." I find that I have to look at him now, he doesn't touch me, but I can feel his eyes on me as though they're fingers at my chin causing my eyes to come up. My father is only a slight bit taller than I am, so my eyes are left looking up into his by only a tiny angle, they're a strong, windy blue.

"I cannot make up for the time I've lost, my child," It feels strange as he finally sets his hands on me, touching my arms in a friendly gesture which is so alien to me. He may even have tried to embrace me, but with the foreign unease I can feel spreading through the both of us at the contact, this is all we can manage. I do not have a bad relationship with him, but is it at all right for father and daughter to feel so awkward around one another?

"Tonight," He presses on anyways, not removing his hands from my arms and I tell myself I do not mind it although I know we both do, "At the banquet, I am going to try and set things in the right again." He manages a smile, and in turn I bring one up as well, although I don't truly feel like it at the moment. If he is trying then I must also do my part.

"I do not like to see you so distressed, my child. So please, be strong for me tonight."

"Yes, Father. I will do my best for you."

* * *

I am... elated. This evening's events have gone smoothly, and all my hours of diligent work are at last within moments of coming to fruitition. The only shame is the manner in which this night has progressed, given that it is a somber occasion showcasing His Majesty's apologies for the Rabble Prince. The red, green, blue, and gold banners which normally hang from the walls and ceiling of the Great Hall are gone now, replaced with flowing lengths of black silk. The brilliance of a hundred torches is also lost this evening, as the walls, floor and tables are covered with hundreds upon hundreds of candles. 

Those small flames have been casting an eerie golden glow upon the faces swimming through the murky darkness of the hall. Not a vibrant shade is to be found in the crowd of nobility and help. Colour this night is all but forbidden as it has been frowned upon for days now. Tonight only mourning blacks and gray's are present, despite the heat of summer which continues to hang in the air even after nightfall. The only gems present are moonstones and most jewelry is silver.

His Majesty's flowing black robes are very reminiscent of his duel station as both a Sage and King, a silver loop through one ear and moonstone ring about his thumb. The Princess is elegantly hidden under a veil of thin black silk which is pinned over her golden hair, her silver tiara glittering in the candle light. Her black gown runs from her wrists to ankles, black lace spilling across the backs of her hands where they have been folded neatly in her lap for most of the evening. Her gown is lined with silver thread along the bodice, and that is all that truly keeps her from melding into the shadows herself. The Prince's garb holds an air of simplicity about it, simple tunic, trousers and boots all in black, and a vest over top of it all in a deep navy blue. For obvious, financial reasons, he has no jewelry about his person.

Perhaps dark colours are not the first choice of the mongrel, or he is still shocked by the deaths of his men, perhaps fearing for his own life as he sits so openly before the crowd. He looks so pale sitting there, occasionally rubbing his hands as though they're frozen. I have feigned concern as rumours of the Prince taking ill have begun -almost silently- to flitter through the castle air. How amusing it is now to watch him grit his teeth to keep them from fevered chattering...

Even the food holds little joy; the soup reminded me of peasant slop as it consisted of little more than peas, potatoes, and simple -although choice- cuts of meat. The salad was nothing to exclaim over, the bread was_ hard_, and the main course has been scantly more than broiled chicken and lightly seasoned lamb. Cor Doma has ground his teeth on little more than plain slate where he sits down the table from me.

The Great Hall this night has been all but silent since the members of the court were seated. What talk there has been thus far has been nothing more than a low murmur off in the lower reaches where the lesser nobility and officials sit. The silence about the High Table has been all but complete as His Majesty has said naught but a word since he seated himself before the meal began, and with him a silent wall in the middle there has been no conversation between the Prince and Princess, nor anyone else. I myself have also kept my peace since the first course arrived; it has taken far too much of my patience and nerve to keep my face in the silently somber tone the evening demands of me. If I am made to speak before the proper time, I fear I will break into laughter and gleeful delight. I cannot allow that tonight.

This is an eve of penitence, of sobriety, and of limitless opportunity...

"Cousins..." His Majesty's voice ripples out through the hall from where he is seated, slowly pushing his large, throne-like chair back and rising. There is a series of scraping noises throughout the chamber as members of the court all begin to rise with him- myself included- and he lifts his silver-wrought goblet up.

"Cousin..." Although my insides twist slightly as he turns towards the Prince with that lifted drink -since the gesture also requires that myself and the rest of the court mimic the movement- I move with flawless calm, stifling an outraged grunt as the King abruptly bends knee to him. This is truly humiliating, but I will not allow myself to let petty pride come in the way of this night. His Majesty's bow is deep for his age, which means the dip myself and the rest of the hall must give is required to be lower still. Doubling over with knees bent, still holding a wine-filled goblet in one hand, I grind my teeth silently. Oh, but soon all of this shall be over and done with...

"My House has wronged you." His Majesty says as he rises, the Prince having accepted the bow from both the King and the Court with a stately nod. A beggar nodding to a banker... "My People have wronged you." His Majesty's goblet is set down on the table, and I let out a deep, steeling breath as we of the court are allowed to rise, but not yet sit. I carefully watch as the Princess looks to her father curiously –her back now to me-, his hand held out to her openly, as though waiting.

Nothing good of this night may come without sacrifice, true and ultimate sacrifice. Even as this plot is mine, this plan is mine, as all the goals which shall be achieved shall be those of Hyrule and the crown, this great sacrifice shall follow me throughout the years. But in order to restore honour I must play my part in evoking the greatest shame.

"I am but an old man..." His Majesty continues, drawing his daughter forwards as she does as he bids. As I have been seated to the far left of the King and the Princess for many weeks now, whereas the Prince has been to His Majesty's right, I cannot see the Princess's eyes as she is brought forward. I can imagine however, the blank confusion in her eyes, how Her Grace must be hiding it now behind a mask of royal indifference, yet how her mind must reel.

The Prince's face is clear to me however, and I watch him carefully as his green eyes move with calculated caution to take in both His Majesty and the Princess in turn. There is definite question in his eyes, and he shall find no answers in either gaze. I can tell that His Majesty sees nothing of the world around him anymore, his voice so solemn and calm. For now, he is little more than an old man lost in memory, the words coming to him now are from his aging heart, and hears nothing save those same words now. The Princess, of course, is as oblivious as he…

"Words are of no console, Young Prince, in times of confusion and grief. Yet, in terms of actions, I have few which I may offer your Grace with any level of dignity." A pause. I can almost see him wet his lips for all that His Majesty's back is to me. The confusion in the Prince's eyes nearly doubles.

"Business between our nations has been done in treaties and trades, Young Prince, so allow this old man to find peace in men's hearts as opposed to merely their wallets… with my most precious treasure..." I doubt he was sure whether to allow his face to drain itself of all colour or explode into frazzled crimson. But in the end the Prince's cheeks flare with an emotion which from the lower tables may be a sign of humility and youthful bashfulness.

"As a sign of peace and a tribute of friendship, accept this most humble gift..."

But from my angle, as the Princess is made to glide elegantly forwards by the touch at her elbow. Her stark white handing curled into the Prince's fevered ones, and both pairs enveloped again by his Majesty's… The Prince's expression is clearly that of utter confusion and stark terror.

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**A short chapter, but I think you'll agree when I say that this is an extremely important one? You have no idea how hard it was for me to keep dancing around this event in Link and the Captain's POVs. **

**I'll admit, some of you guys, like Dantaron, came up with some very interesting plot twists for me concerning Salvin, but I'm afraid they won't be going in. True, Salvin's pretty easy to see through, since we all kinda knew he was the bad guy ever since his first/second appearance, but sometimes a nice, simple villain is good. Take Ganondorf for example. You'd be hard pressed to find a villain more linear (linearer?) than**** that, but Link still has a long enough quest ahead of him. Every. Single. Time.**


	19. Chapter 19

**You know what? Screw it, I really hate Nayru. I can't write for her in this story, it's just... really really hard. She was easy before, but now… I just want to avoid angst! I used to write a lot of it, but I don't want angst in MotS! It is not a depressing story! I don't want Nayru mucking it up with her angstiness!**

**On another note; I demand everyone read** The Hero of Wolves **by** The Wolfess **in the Zelda fandom! Only if you've played TP of course, as it doesn't make sense otherwise... It's only 3 chapters in but I highly recommend it! **Scop**'s **Divide and Conquer** is also another story worth looking into, taking reference from a number of games in the series, specifically Four Swords Adventure! **

**Hans Zimmer is a god. **

**There's my rant, here's your story. Enjoy. **

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 19

The ship we captured off the coast of Crescent Island, we soon learned was given the name _The Queen Zelda_. Her namesake is the Princess I've always served, the future queen who isn't well recieved across all her lands. The constant remarks of _'Riding'_ the Queen and _'Roughing her up' _have, needless to say, curdled my already lack-luster mood. That technically everyone's referring to the ship and not the woman is of little consultation to me.

Her crew -for the most part- are dead now. Those who survived the initial battle were executed easily enough by the Captain's men. Their armor and weapons were stripped from them before their corpses were flung over the side of the ship after my shield. I'm confident the upper deck will always be stained by the blood, according to the Captain the ship is new as well, meaning the crimson has likely already sunken deep…

It seems unjust to have done away with them all. But even I, someone who's never before taken part in a true tactical war, know that keeping nearly fifteen strong, well trained men, -all fiercely loyal to the Regent- alive would be simply unacceptable. The only ones who didn't share that watery grave were two boys. And I do mean, boys.

Twelve and eight. Yes, eight. A squire and a page, they holed themselves up below decks and nearly got themselves killed when the older boy tried to remove the arm of one of the Captain's men as we were searching the ship for anyone else. Well, needless to say he did remove it, but it was simply a matter of picking the bones back up and waiting for the energy to lock them all back into place at his shoulder.

The older boy prattled off codes and threats in a way which forced me to keep them both alive. He was terrified; they both were, but not completely of us. He was staring directly into the eyes of that same Hylian officer when we brought them both up on decks, and every word that passed his lips looked like it had been beaten into him as opposed to something he really believed in.

Lyude and Fee –short for Felix-, brothers from what I've seen. I was sure to watch the Captain as the boys were brought up, and I think I might've seen a shade of the cursed man from memory as he actually seemed… hesitant… to order them killed with the men. He didn't do anything intimidating either when I challenged him –again- and advocated to keep them alive.

Lyude, the older one, is now my temporary squire. He looks nothing like Timothy, and he doesn't have the same air of refinement as my noble-born aide –his dark chestnut hair is always tousled, and he's missing one of his front teeth- but he does as much as I need him to. Fee is much lighter in colouring, but both brothers have the same dark brown eyes. I swear by all accounts though they're both far to young to be sailing around on a warship. I've been keeping Lyude busy finding his brother odd jobs around the _Queen Zelda_, coiling old ropes and swabbing unused decks, things to just keep him out from underfoot.

I didn't jump back to the _Fair Lady_ after the battle ended, partially because of my leg and the burning slice just over my left knee. But the Hylian ship just seemed… more appropriate … The fact that this ship also has proper foodstuffs aboard it only held marginal sway over me… Honest.

I earned myself a stupid look from the Captain as I bound my leg with a few tight bandages. He seemed about ready to ask why I wasn't releasing the fairy who's still dangling at my hip, but I think he gave up. The crew seems to be getting the message that I don't take aid from the fairy folk lightly…

_The Queen Zelda_ trolled along behind the _Fair Lady_ after her capture, manned by a skeleton crew- an unintended pun- and doubling back along the coastline. We didn't reach Tota Port that day until nearly noon.

Tota, simply put, is not my kind of town. I don't know whether or not I'm glad to be going into it at the age I am now, since if it had been present on Crescent island several years ago when I first landed on the island then I think it would have been a scarring experience. But at least then the leers would've been lessened.

The men claimed that Tota burned. But judging by the reports I've heard of _'minimal damage'_, the port obviously couldn't have been much to begin with. Tota Port is nothing more than an unsightly slum that's grown on the far eastern coast of the island, along the same location as what was once simply a Tokay village. When we made port the Captain was gratified to see that only a few of the buildings near the docks had actually burned. To be honest, I couldn't tell. The entire place is filthy.

Garbage and grime litter the plank-covered boardwalks built along the sides of buildings to keep people from floundering in the muddy sand which comes with every seasonal rain. The buildings range from being little more than overgrown huts of bamboo and salvaged wood to large blocks of sun-baked clay for more prominent locations. Several of these clay buildings include taverns, at least three of which with far too many women standing outside of them leering at the crowd. The entire port has a low haze draped over it, a result I'd assume of the flames which tore through the harbor, and the smoke every other man and woman seems to belch out from carved wooden pipes.

According to the captain, early into Salvin's rule the Lord-Regent decided to _'Expand Labrynna's abilities'_ by placing a full human colony on Crescent island. The colony would farm the island and provide a surplus of food for the land itself, meaning grains could be shipped off and sold elsewhere.

Well, there were more than a number of issues with that plan... Crescent Island is -or perhaps, only **was**- covered with humid forests, not mild prairies. Ships arrived and set nearly half the island a flame trying to clear the land without ever once stopping to so much as notice the Tokay population. The people who arrived on the next fleet were forcibly removed from their homes on the mainland and brought here, and were badly received by the lizard-like inhabitants. That the farmsteads were only ever able to produce minimal yields which just allowed the populace to scrape by didn't help things at all. Heavy taxation from the mainland only helped curdle the mood on the island more thoroughly.

By the sounds of thing the Tokaies and the mainlanders have reached a consensus, although that doesn't mean they really get along or that there's any real order to anything. The people who live in Tota Port now are the children of the first settlers, years of political mis-treatment and bitter relations with... well, everyone else, is probably what's led to the unsightliness of the port now adays. Entire families died in the early years without food from the mainland, fighting between the lizard-like Tokay and the colony just left resentment and bitter outlooks on life. I'm fairly sure as well that any pirate bands which weren't removed by the Fair Lady years ago eventually came to use Tota as a new home. Sort of a way of spiting the Lord Regent I suppose; encouraging men who were once revered as the most unsavory of criminals to do their business openly in the streets.

Although, the real reason is probably the steady flow of rums, wines, and beers which top up every glass and bottle on the island...

I don't drink very often, and when I do indulge I normally save it for times of celebration when I haven't a care in the world and don't mind the idea of waking up with a smashing headache come morning. Well, I certainly have nothing to celebrate now, but that first night on land it was a true battle of wills not to drink myself under the table. But at least I was able to _sleep_.

"Sir, the Captain's been calling for you for an hour now." Farore, I almost scream as those words ease themselves through the door to my now much larger and more comfortable cabin aboard the _Queen Zelda_. I could've slept on land last night and the one before, but I'm still nursing the large bump on the side of my head from those first hours on the beach. I didn't even see the pot coming at me until someone shrieked "Long Eared Tokay!" and I turned right into the damn thing…

Another kindness from Salvin, of the settlers who were roughed out of their homes, the only one who happened to have long, pointed ears was the man put in charge to be… governor… or something… of the island colony. His family was hanged the year Tota was more or less founded, which was pretty much just when they stopped listening to the mainland and began catering to motley outlaws...

Since Tota holds little enough appeal in itself, the hostility of the locals has helped keep me down on the water, literally doing my utmost to keep my feet on either the _Queen _or the _Lady_ so as to avoid any more projectiles. It's given me more than a bit of time to rest, which has been a gods-send. My wounds certainly haven't healed in only a few days, but it's given me the opportunity to address each one properly.

I even scrounged up a clean outfit from the remains of what the crew had. Remembering after the jar incident too stave away from reds, lions, triangles, and falcons. I know, deep down, that it's wrong to wear dead men's clothes, but it feels so good not to creak every time I move… Regardless, however nice it is to be in clean something- even if I still lack proper washing, I don't think it would be wise for me to go ashore looking for a bath- in a somewhat larger bed, and given many long hours to just rest and heal, my quiver is still empty, and I'm not learning anything about… well… anything, by just sitting on an anchored ship.

I don't think I actually noticed how much I've come to depend on Timothy's services until I was thrust through time and have been left without him constantly acting as my shadow. My aches and pains are numb and sore and keep me stiff as I try to bend over to tug on my own boots. Farore, what a lazy noble I've become, needing the help of a twelve year old boy to find my sw-… where the hell did I put my sword?

I actually find myself looking over the desk which is bolted to one wall of the cabin in mounting panic. I didn't take the largest room on the ship, but one of the higher officers, still, I know where the Master Sword is, the loyal blade of the Gods is sitting next to my bed. Damnit, I _have_ become reliant on Timothy. My gear each evening- if I was using any- always goes on my desk in my chambers at the castle, and my mail- again if I have it- is laid out over the back of the chair. For a full year that's exactly how it's been, and for all that I'm supposed to be obscenely unpredictable and fluid as the wind, I'm panicking as that simple routine is shattered.

Where in Din's Fiery, Blazing Hells did my knight's sword go?

"You did this, didn't you?" I hiss quietly, aware of the boy standing anxiously outside my door as I put off searching for my sword as I hop on one foot trying to yank my other boot the rest of the way on. That damn sword is humming again. Near silently against my bed, I can practically feel it thrumming, almost hear a hidden mystical laugh coil about it.

This is insanity! The Master Sword- Evil's Bane or **_no!_**- does not possess the ability to do away with my other sword out of jealous spite!! Things just do not work that way!

"Sir?"

"Yes, I know, thank you." I say stiffly to the boy in the hall, firing the Heavenly blade another accusing glare before I cross over to the bed and snatch it up, belting it over my shoulder and huffing in aggravation as I leave the cabin behind.

I've also kept both Lyude and Fee firmly on board the Queen since we landed two days ago. Tota is absolutely no place for young boys like them, and even if it were, I'm fairly sure their long ears would warrant them a beating or two…

Moving down the hall I'm surprised at how familiar it is now for me to hear shorter footfalls echoing my own down the corridor. A short week or two ago and I would still tentatively look over my shoulder at Timothy, trying to find a way of dismissing him… But for the last little while without the squire around, I guess corridors and halls just feel to quiet.

Pale sunlight is streaming across the water as it's nearly midday already. Fee's blonde head tilts towards me as I notice the boy scraping barnacles off a piece of driftwood his brother likely found for him. Seated cross-legged on the abandoned deck, he watches me closely before going back to his task, and I glance over my shoulder at the older of the two boys.

"If you notice my second sword anywhere…" I say absently, hoping he'll catch onto the request so I don't have to completely blurt out my own incompetence. Am I slowly losing my mind? I've never been known to misplace things like this… Blessedly, Lyude's blank look lasts only so long for him to notice the lone hilt over my shoulder, before he nods quickly.

"Y'sir, I'll find it." He says promptly, slurring the words a bit but I don't mind, offering a smile to the boy before I trump roughly down the plank leading to the wharf. I'm cautious as I look up and down the length of the floating platform, quick on my feet as I lock onto the _Fair Lady_'s dark masts as I make short work of the distance, and plant my feet on her deck a mere moment later.

The crewmembers all disbanded and drifted off into the port city after the ships landed, although I don't know what they could be doing given that they can indulge in neither alcohol nor other earthly pleasures. But sure enough, the deck is all but silent save for the absent creek of the aged timbers, and the dull thumping of my boots across the planks.

There are voices however, and I can easily pick up the Captain's gruff words fluttering through the air over the sigh of the waves. Following the sounds I step into the Fair Lady's navigation and chart room, and am suddenly the focus of very critical attention.

"Long Eared Tokay!!" I actually see the jar this time as it comes hurtling through the air at me, jumping back and to the side to place my back flat against the outer wall of the room as the inkwell fires past me and shatters against the deck. Damnit, not again…

"Gomba! Stop that!" A voice I don't recognize admonishes the enraged lizard who hurled the bottle at me, and I slowly peek around the corner to take a better look inside.

The Captain's bare skull is easily visible where he's seated behind the wide mapping desk, rubbing his forehead as though he were a man of flesh instead of simply bone. A Zora and a Tokay are his only company, the former standing flat-footed on the deck and holding a long spear in his webbed grasp. He has the look of a fighter about him, his fish-tale head missing a chunk out of it's tail fin, his icy blue chest laced with imperfect scars as the fins falling from his elbows are stiff even when he seems at ease.

As strange as Zora may be to those who aren't used to Nayru's aquatic people, Tokaies are just down right weird even to the most well traveled in the world. Even I myself need to perform a double-take before able to put aside the shock their appearance generally fills me with.

Tokay walk and stand on two legs like humans, but the proportions are completely warped. Scaly and green with white underbellies, they're a lizard race with squished, flat heads which extend from side to side as far as my shoulders do, but are less than a quarter of that length thick, and almost completely round. They have one bulbous eye on either end of that thin head, and a wide mouth which grins with a full set of sharp teeth. Their gangly arms end with stubby, clawed, fingers, and their tails are truly not something to get in the way of despite a lack of spikes or sharp points. This one also has a number of beaded necklaces draped around his neck, bangles at his thin wrists, but he seems to young to have much rank in the local community…

I won't say that the Tokay people are stupid… but they simply don't- or perhaps, didn't- know very much about the world outside their little island. During my travels they were simply a race which lazed about, loved life and called anything that wasn't food a Tokay… But somehow, the dark, angry look in this one's eyes makes me feel as though things have changed…

"This be the lad I was hopin' ta 'ave Kalvin put ta use." The Captain cuts in shortly, bringing the Zora's attention back to him, although the Tokay- Gomba- keeps his eyes solidly on me.

"Long eared Tokay, Captain- long eared!" He hisses darkly, and I move to stand in the doorway again, jumping at the sudden force of the Captain's response.

"O' course 'e's long eared, you dolt!" The skeleton roars, rising to his feet and slamming his bone hands down hard on the table. "Any man w'th eyes or no eyes t'all can see ta that! Hylian 'e is, an that do be a holy blade a 'is people strapped ta his back! Now shut yer mangy trap!"

If the Captain had hoped to quell any further dark looks, I can say he failed quite miserably. Those two bulging Tokay eyes focus on me with deadly accusation, and the Zora warrior abruptly brings his staff around towards me. Its twisted coral-like head seems both blunt and sharp at the same time as it curls around itself in a mass of red and blue stone, not something I'd like to meet with.

"Wait, don't!" I say, hearing my words in the air before I could properly think through them, my left hand reaching over my shoulder to grasp the Master Sword's hilt, but as I feel a deep thrum of approval from the blade I snatch my hand back as though it were afire. I will not fight with it!

"What madness is this!?" The Zora demands, turning his solidly dark blue gaze to the Captain with an accusing tone in his voice, "Explain yourself, Goul!"

"I dunna need ta answer t' th' likes of you, Zora!" The Captain snaps back; and I can sense some sort of deep animosity between the two, as though they've butted heads before.

"The hell you do!" It isn't that it's rare to hear such conviction in a Zora's voice, so much as it's simply not a common occurrence. And for all that the Tokay is still staring at me with murderous intent, I find myself watching the two beings of the sea argue. "You who destroyed our city under a lion banner! You who gives reckless orders for all too follow when only your own men are ever sure too survive!" That coral-laden staff turns towards the undead man with true anger behind it.

"Silence, ye' Tuna Prince!" The Captain booms loudly, his anger rising to meet with the Zora's and I take a moment before the title sinks in. And yes, there was a title in there, although it was marred by spiteful critique…

Prince?

"Long… eared…"

"Gomba, shut up!" I keep myself from jumping as both the Captain and the Zora Prince bellow the order at the Tokay, startling him as well as he looks to them both with a startled look in his eyes before they come back once more to review me. The undead pirate and the zora are simply ignoring the two of us now, going on to shout about various flaws within the other's character, such as the moral values of their mothers…

"Who is Kalvin?" I ask, looking to Gomba for a bit of enlightenment as he seems the calmest of the three to question.

"He's dead, and that's all a murderer like you needs to know!" I flinch at the scorching words from the Zora, his temper flaring over to me once more. "Dead in the firefight three nights past; which your men brought down on us! As though the waters were not bloody enough, you-!"

"'e was on **_my_**ship, fool!" This, through some measure of luck and irony, is what finally silences the argument, as both Gomba and the Zora prince forget me once more and stare at where the skeletal Captain is standing with his arms crossed.

"My ship, he all but set th' Hylian vessel afire with th' power a 'is gods. Took down ten o th' Regent's Men afore th' battle was through!" I force myself to keep my face neutral as the Captain boasts my skills, calming the turbulence of the room as both the Tokay and the Zora repeatedly look back and forth between the Captain, each other, and myself. I can't feel pride for his praise however, I can't see cutting down men who were simply following orders as cause to celebrate. I killed men who would've killed me, that's simply the rule of combat and warfare, but war isn't something to laugh at.

If I didn't know by now that men in times of war need tales of glory to keep them sane… If I didn't know that the enemy needs to look like rampaging monsters for soldiers to strike them down… If I didn't know all the mind-games war makes people play, then I swear I'd have to do more than bite down on my tongue to remain silent. But truth be told, these people **are** at war.

"Listen 'ere, boy." The Captain drawls as a few moments are given for the other two too appreciate the scope of my prowess. "Gomba is th' leader a' the starvin' Tokay, Jasper be th' Prince o' Labrynna's scattered Zora, an I be a thrice damned pirate who canna die by blades. Kalvin was th' man who coulda made t'all work out, coulda brought down th' Regent an 'haps even 'is Holy Queen…"

"The Queen Zelda is a weak ruler," I look to the Zora prince as he speaks, watching him closely as his eyes, deep blue from side to side, are focused intently on me. Slowly, I feel the colour begin to drain from my face. It isn't hard to breathe per say, but I feel a tightness in my chest, I know I won't want to hear this, but it's coming at me anyways. "She is without a husband, and without a son or daughter to assume her throne… her nation is crumbling around her, and in her growing age there's little she can do to stop it."

I swallow hard to hear that. I've seen the future once before, although not so far ahead as this, only several years not decades. At that time, my focus on finding Zelda was to make sure she was still alive in a world of the undead and the half-living. Now, in my mind I can see her standing in one of her silken gowns, sunlight shining off of her gold hair as her eyes hold quiet laughter and deep wisdom. I can't… quite grasp the concept of her barren, wrinkled and old, I can't bare the idea of the sorrow she would feel to watch Hyrule crumble once more. And this time, without any dark evils tearing it from her grasp…

By the gods, I can still hardly wrap my mind around the concept of her wedded to Ralph. In my mind it simply doesn't work out, I can't see it happening. All that I know of Ralph's character aside, the fact that she married him just… it makes me feel… so wound up inside, so angered, almost betrayed… But, why?

"Long eared Tokay bring fire to Tokay homes, bring round eared Tokay to starve on beaches, crush blue Tokay with falling stones, bring angry clouds to kill all other Tokay…" Gomba's voice begins mellow and soft, but as he speaks I still cannot rid my mind of those conflicting images of Zelda, the angry emotions which boil up within me. His black, bulbous eyes watch me sharply, sizing me up as his voice drops into an angry hiss past the sharp points of his teeth.

"He isn't of this time, is he?" The Captain shakes his fleshless head back and forth slowly as Jasper poses the question calmly, "I've heard Legends of the Hylian gods bending their Heroes through time, and he really doesn't know what everything's like now adays…"

"Enough." I feel like I've been silent for a long time, and am almost surprised as they stop talking and look at me. I feel so upset, heat running through my veins as I don't know where this anger is coming from. I just keep seeing Zelda, over and over again. Zelda as a young princess, as a barren queen, as the bride of a man I've seen as one of my closest friends for so long now. I'm just so… mad.

"Watch yerself, boy, that be a killin' look in yer eyes now…"

"I do not know why I was sent here." I cut in sharply, surprising the Captain and myself as my tone is especially acidic. "The gods do not send me to quell civil wars, or to unseat tyrants- how ever cruel they may be. Mortals control their lives and the lives of those around them; it is not the charge of the gods to right the wrongs of the common man." I have their attention, well and truly now I have their attention. I find myself staring past the three of them, my eyes pegged to the back wall and nothing in particular as my mind eye clouds my true vision. I just keep seeing **Zelda**.

"My charge is the Oracle of Ages, an Avatar of the gods, one of the Guardians of Labrynna, her chosen home. It is her duty to keep kings and queens on their paths as they govern; it is her task to keep the people well." Finally, I pry my eyes from the endless charts which line the walls of the navigation room, boldly meeting the gazes of the three other men in the room.

"The Lord Regent has defied the gods by keeping their Avatar a prisoner, and I am here for their names and her honour. Once that is done, it will be up to her as to how time and the actions of the past must be dealt with; what travesties may be unwritten, what cruel acts must remain." Somehow, it's almost as though there's someone speaking through me, and I can dimly see the other men in the room almost take a step back from me, looking at me in surprise as I feel a hazy touch graze the back of my neck. A thin film of green flashes past my gaze and I feel the Master Sword humming deeply where it rests across my back. And I know why; I'm making a vow in the names of the gods I fight for, the powers which toy with my life on a whim. Oh, the Irony.

"My charge is the Oracle of Ages, my duty is to return her home. I will strike down any and all who stand between her and freedom. On my life and my honour that is my vow, and all before me stand as my witness."

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**This came out… entirely as Link, when it was supposed to have a lot of Zelda in it instead… I didn't expect Link's portion to be more than three to four pages, it came out as nine… Zelda's was already supposed to be huge, so I can't put it in now, sorry… **

**Yes, I know Tota seems a lot like Tortuga from Pirates of the Caribbean. I can't and won't deny the resemblance, but frankly, when I thought up this section of the story, I just... wanted someplace rough and ugly. A blight in Labrynna to show what the land's slowly falling to, and how mis-managed even their resistance is.** **I mean, I already had pirates mixed into things, so… **


	20. Chapter 20

**I'm happy so many people enjoyed Link's argument with the Master Sword. I just needed to have something really put him off balance, make him a bit more human before that speech of his.**

**Alas, the ending is swiftly coming up for this story. Oh, it'll still be some weeks yet considering I normally don't get everything I want into a chapter, take 19 for a prime example. But now the blurry bits are coming up less often, and I now have a much firmer sequence of events to go off of for the upcoming end. This's been so much fun to write, but I must honestly say I shall be a bit relieved to no longer have the massive pressure of Matters on my shoulders all the time. I've had to keep myself firmly away from other fandoms to make sure my interest hasn't swayed, not an easy task mind you…**

**Hans Zimmer is still a god. Enjoy your read.**

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 20

"You cannot go and see him like that."

"He is my father, I shall go as I like!" I hate it, that sound in my voice, that subtle hitch and the high whine which worms its way into my words. I feel my frustration welling up so high within me that tears prick my eyes once more, as they did for all of last night. I felt so ill when I returned to my chambers after the banquet and the horrors which occurred within the hall, and hardly slept. I don't know when or why I started crying, but I did and I've hardly stopped since.

"I will not allow you to walk down the halls looking like that! And in any case his Majesty is to busy now to meet with you."

"Impa! He is my father!" I shriek, suddenly horrified at the pitch my voice takes, clapping one hand over my mouth to stifle a similar sound from clawing its way up my throat. I feel myself shaking as Impa's solid, unmoving form dressed in brown tunic and trousers blurs before me, the white of her hair mixing with the dark tan of her skin.

"And he is still King!" She snaps sharply, tears falling from my eyes and allowing me to see the stern disapproval, a look which boarders on anger, smoldering in her dark eyes. Somehow, I feel trapped by that hard gaze, so many conflicting messages and emotions warring within them, but nary is a single shard of it aligned with me. She knows not what to think now, but she can still remain solidly opposed to whatever I have to say now.

"Then I shall go and see the Prince!" I argue weakly, finding the force behind those eyes to be nearly crushing, my hands shaking at my sides as I lock my knees into place so as to keep them from knocking.

"Out of the question." The answer all but floors me, and I stare at her in outright shock. "The Prince has far more important issues to deal with first."

"More important than the woman who has been promised as his wife!?" I demand heatedly, but again I hear that high squeak which makes it sound as more of a child's whine than a woman's order.

"With the blood of his men still wet on the hands of their murderer, Zelda, yes, more important than you." I feel as though she could have slapped me and resulted in a less forceful reaction than that which chills my bones and twists my insides horribly. Those cold eyes hardly flinch as I feel my expression mirror the conflicting emotions running rampant through me. I feel as though I'm losing all control of the world around me, stunned at how swiftly everything seems to be unraveling.

"Impa! You cannot be serious!" I shriek, unashamed now of my tone as I simply cannot be hearing this from her, "This isn't at all what I want, you can't expect me to simply sit back and let all of this happen without my consent!"

"Want?" I feel cold again as Impa's dark eyes widen in surprise to hear the word, tasting it with her tongue as though it were foreign to her. "Zelda, this is not a matter of wants, it is a matter of duty! You are the Princess and your father the king has called upon you to fulfill your obligations to the state, I don't see what there is to discuss."

"My _duty!?_ Impa, to hell with d-!" This time, she does slap me, and I can hardly connect with the fact even as my head is snapped abruptly to the side, the force of the blow causing my skin to heat and sting from it. I feel a shudder trail from my neck down my back, flinching visibly as my nursemaid's words are as sharp knives biting into my flesh.

"I never thought I'd ever hear such selfish words pass those lips of yours." Her voice holds acid as I straighten but keep my eyes still to the side and the wall where her blow sent them. I take silent, unthinking inventory of my teeth, tasting light copper but knowing she didn't strike me with the force to leave even the faintest bruise.

"Your father and I have left you to live as a naïve little girl for to long now, Zelda, it seems we should have listened to your cousin and pressed harder for you to marry."

"Too marry!?" I exclaim, swallowing the scant crimson in my mouth as I speak, drawing my eyes up to her again; feeling hurt and accusing to hear her say those words. "Pressed harder? The only mention of marriage- before last night at least!- that I've ever heard from either of you was weeks ago when I dined with my father!" The father who is too busy to see me now, as he always is. The man who's directing my fate and not even consulting me too search out some manner of compromise. And, by Nayru's calm blessing, I would barter with him too!

"Countless young lords all steadily waltzing through the palace, Zelda, open your eyes! All winter they came in droves! Trying to catch your eye in the hall, walking with you during the day, offering to escort you into the city! Don't tell me you never noticed them, girl!" I freeze as her words sting me as another blow, and I feel a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, as I both understand and don't know what she's talking about.

Many lords come to the castle all year round, making rounds of homage to my father, discussing business and trade within the nation, and other matters of the state. But, I don't know if I can quiet recall their ever bringing their sons to the castle with them. I can remember speaking of this with Link during the winter evenings in either of our chambers. We both merely concluded that the young men were searching out noble brides during the seasons when most activities such as farming and fishing taper off. Perhaps we joked of whether any of them would try to court me, but it was always simply that, a joke, a jest, something for us to chuckle over before the conversation turned to other things.

Oh, Nayru, what a sick, sick joke it seems like now…

"Of course you didn't notice them…" Impa sighs, and I feel defeated, stumbling back slowly with what few measures of grace I can hold together, finding a chair and lowering myself into it as my knees feel weak. "What a naïve child I've raised, and you **are** still a child, Zelda; to not have known what your own coming of age means for you."

For some reason unbeknownst to me, I find the most shocking words flutter past my lips in response.

"This was… what drove my mother to flee, wasn't it, Impa?" Oh, but the sudden silence which greets this question is deafening. I know so little of my mother aside from the resemblance to her I hold. What I have picked up over the years has always come through word of mouth, half heard in the halls, or coming to Link who's squire has the makings of a scholar in him. This scrap of knowledge is one such tidbit the boy has unearthed…

"Betrothal, my mother fled and left her entire life behind because of it didn't she?" I bring my gaze up from where it's fallen to the thick blue rugs which cover the stone floor, looking to Impa with as much conviction and question in my eyes as I can muster. "And you let her run too, Impa, you were her best friend, you helped her run away from her duty." I swear had I not fallen back into the chair and put that distance between us, she would reach forwards again and slap me harder than before. The fiery look in her dark eyes is the sort which sends grown men scampering through the castle halls to perform her bidding.

"Do not try to Martyr yourself to me, Zelda!" She hisses darkly, her voice swiftly rising into an enraged holler which can no doubt be heard out in the hall. "Your grandfather was a tyrant who would have sent your mother off to a glutton who had already put several wives into the ground! She lived in a time of rebellion and war! Sight or no, Princess, you know nothing of the life your mother lived! At the very least you have a father who cares and loves you as any father should!"

"A father who won't even speak to me!" I shout back, rising once more and striding forwards so that we are merely a foot apart, "A father who won't hear a word I have to say, nor consult me in the slightest manner! Were the tables turned and I saw this as cause to be happy -if that I loved him!- he would still have no time for me! Not a single moment!"

She lifts her hand to strike me again, but I won't have it now. As her right hand streaks towards me I bring my left one up and block her at the wrist, my own right hand coming up swiftly and before I can quell my own anger I backhand her sharply across the face.

"Get out!" I bellow, furious beyond all comparison and my flaring temper outdoing any outbursts from my youth. My anger runs so hot that I feel hardly a speck of concern as the woman who has always been as my mother touches her lips shyly, droplets of crimson tinting her fingers and rimming her mouth slowly.

I turn sharply on my heel, marching stiffly across the plush rugs. I have no eye for the silver worked finery about me as I reach out to grip the brass handle to my bedchamber with the force to bruise my own hand.

"Never could I have thought that she who spends such time with a man whose duty is above all else, could possess such a cold and ignorant heart."

"I said _get out!!_"

I hear the door to my antechamber open and shut behind me, twisting the knob in my hand with shakes running the length of my arms and shoulders. I slam the thick wood hard as I step into my bedchamber, eyes shut as I know my way through the small room. I cannot bare the sight of the pale stone chest the Prince gifted me with weeks ago, it sits open on my dresser now, the contents of my older wooden box emptying themselves into it and the task remaining unfinished from yesterday afternoon.

I reach blindly for the sheer curtains about my bed, parting them numbly as I blessedly chose a plain dress of cotton and lace for today, not needing to worry about rips or wrinkles as I slip off my soft shoes and climb onto the plush covers. I make sure the curtains fall back into place once I am inside, crawling towards the far edge of the bed, and leaning my back against the cool stone. I bring my knees up and together, wrapping my arms around them as though I were still a child seeking comfort from a small and secure space.

A man whose duty is above all else, she says. The man whom I've spent more hours laughing with, more hours speaking and seeking console in than he who is supposed to be my father and mentor. Who is she or anyone else to say that it is Link's choice to follow that duty unto the end? Since childhood the gods have plucked him out of his own life, he has no choice in the matter, saying he does so out of a sense of duty only makes him seem grander than he truly is.

Sweet Farore, why did you have to take him from me now? Now when I need that comfort and console more than at any other time? What dark evils are lurking in the world and demand his attention, so poorly timed with this chaos brewing in my own home? It is not his duty as given by you to settle the matters of the state and the people, but that does not mean he is useless to me, that he would not help me now if I only had the chance to ask him.

Am I so selfish for wanting him near me right now? Wanting someone who I can always speak to, always know that his words will be kind, even when they aren't what I want to hear? Even in private everyone seems to see me only as Princess, and the only one who's never treated me that way, -not even in outright public when it is expected!- has to be taken away from me _now_…

"By, Fire, Wind and Water, Link… Please, please come home…"

* * *

Today has certainly been a strange and eventful one. I was not present at the dinner when His Majesty announced the wedding of our Princess and the Foreign prince, although now I wish I had been.

Since this morning the entire castle's been in a rather uppity mood. I'm once again allowed to walk about and perform very, very simple tasks for assorted lords and ladies, and it's as though the entire palace has breathed a heavy sigh of relief after last night. People have been smiling at one another, stopping and talking in the halls, the infectious good nature of the season finally returning after the dark acts in the Water Corridor. Oh, it's not like everything's fixed up and finished, but the general level of tension within the entire castle seems greatly reduced.

Mind you, that's only within the castle, outside only so far as the stables absolute chaos broke out sometime in the middle of the night. Obviously I'm not allowed near any of the horses now after what happened to me the last time I saw Epona, but frankly I don't know if I'd want to go near her at all now.

Sometime near midnight, no stable hand or servant has the faintest clue what happened, but someone –or something- went and completely sent my Lord's horse utterly over the edge. I came as close to the comfortable horse station as I could before the shrieks and screams from the animals inside warned me away completely. Epona's been utterly mad since last night; she even went so far as to break the sides of her stall with her mighty hooves, trying to get out and away from the stables.

Obviously, since she's my Lord's mount, I did my best to ask around and find out what's wrong with her, but no one has any idea. She isn't injured from what they could see, no one unseemly came near her at all throughout the night, she isn't sick, hasn't been harassed, and from what they found amongst the other horses there's no sign of any stallions coming near her. So really, the only logical explanation is that Epona has gone absolutely insane.

"You will not harm my Lord's Horse!" I nearly bite through my tongue as I realize a moment to late that I spoke out when I wasn't supposed to. It's only through the kindness of the stable master that I'm even allowed to listen in on the conversation now going on here in his somewhat musty office within the servant's wing of the castle. I swallow hard as the three men in the room all turn towards me slowly, two stable hands and Master Falon, he's Miss Malon's uncle from Lon Lon ranch where Epona came from.

"That's all well and good to say, boy…" Master Falon drawls carefully, watching me in a hard way which makes me nervous, that there's a twinkle of amusement in those stony depths just pushes me farther off balance. "But Epona's been possessed since birth, none but your master himself has ever been able to successfully mount or tame that beast; your arm there's testament to that." I swallow uneasily,

"But, you don't truly mean to harm her, do you, sir?" I ask tentatively, sure to tack on the honourary as I took a rather harsh step out of line. I feel a bit of the tension between my shoulders ease slightly as he simply shakes his balding head at me in a mellow sort of calm. He wouldn't be in the wrong or at fault to order Epona's quarantine or death based on fears of her madness, but he's a man who knows horses better than most people know their own siblings.

"No, but if we can then perhaps we'll send her back to the ranch until your Master can come tame her again… it won't do for her to keep spooking the other animals so badly." I have to be content with that, I know I do. Epona's already been moved from her normal stall into a more solitary one in the back of the stables, but getting out of the crowded, noisy castle and city is probably what's better for her. It isn't as though my Lord will have cause to be angry with anyone when he returns… at least, I hope not…

"Well, that's all boys." Master Falon says easily, clapping his thick hands together before placing them on his wide hips and looking over the three of us. "Jev, Sir Ladekhan wants his dun brushed down and readied for an afternoon ride after the midday meal, Sal; you and the Squire here go off and get your lunch, should be about that time now." I give a sharp bow at the dismissal, watching from the corner of my eye as the gangly blond stable hand nods appreciatively, and we exit together.

I don't actually know the other boy, so end up taking a different route to the kitchen, not ducking through the cramped servant's stairwells as I make my way out into the proper halls. It isn't cosure, especially since I've no one to attend to directly, but no one will really fault me for walking through the cleaner, wider corridors of the castle. In any light, it allows for anyone needing an immediate servant to call upon me, and if I choose to look at things positively, the cast holding my right arm can easily prevent more strenuous requests.

I'm in a hurry now actually, my cousin asked for me to attend him in the Library come the mid-day meal. Of course, he has Malvo to perform his actual requests; calling on me is really just his clever way of finding time to pick apart what I've put together about any number of topics.

It's likely he wants to see me about the histories he's been procuring for me, all the reasons, secrets, and specifics of battles and treaties seem to interest him as much as they fascinate me, but to a lesser extent. My cousin will speak about history for hours, but he's told me more than once that he prefers to look towards the future, and looks to me to condense the more important lessons of the past for him. I've no quarrel with this of course, in fact, I think I've got something most interesting for him today.

I find myself jogging down the castle halls and force myself to slow down. Gods know if I'm caught at anything faster than a crawl by the Lady Impa I'll find myself in a terrifying world of lecture and promised chores. I already have doubts of ever breathing fresh air again once my arm is healed, considering the amount of kitchen duty I've been told is coming to me already. As things stand now I could likely even be re-confined to bed.

Although the air within the castle is more relaxed after last night than the stifling nature of days before, the halls are generally quiet with fewer servants about than normal. Those who do wander are also in pairs, and I nod quickly towards two familiar squires who are wearing their belted practice swords as they go about their duties together. Everyone's still shaken by the murders, in fact, the more I think on them myself, the less comfortable I myself feel walking all alo-

"Malvo?" Well now, at this I have to stop, my boot skidding slightly across the stone as I turned the next corner quite sharply with no carpeting beneath me walking so close to the wall. I stare unabashedly at my cousin's servant where he's kneeling over a tray of food, the turn in the corridor was so direct I didn't see him, and I hop back slightly as I nearly kick him in the side where he's facing the wall.

"Ah, Young Master…" Malvo says, and I'm somewhat surprised he even responded to me verbally. Swiftly and silently, the silver cover for the meal comes up and falls into place over the roast meal with generous amounts of gravy dribbled over it. I blink slightly as suddenly he's standing with the tray balanced one hand, the fingers of the other fiddling with the pocket of his tunic. I could swear I saw him doing something to the sauce -mixing it?-, and I almost thought I heard paper rustling when he jammed his thumb into the gold fabric across his torso...

I give myself a rough shake as he simply stares at me with those tired, droopy eyes, clearly waiting for me to say something since I called his name. Now I'm even more confused…

"What are you doing, Malvo?" I ask, feeling a nagging sense of curiosity, but unsure of what to think. His sleepy blue eyes give me little help, as unmoving as a stone as he watches me with that eerie calm and silence. Malvo isn't the sort of servant to spit in his master's food… is he?

"Delivering the mid-day meal, Young Master…"

"Really? To whom? Isn't my cousin waiting for me in the Library?" I feel my curiosity leap up a bit as I quickly draw up a mental map of the castle. The Library is in the north western wing of the palace, far from the private chambers of the nobility since because their wing is blindingly huge in the east, and for the most part rests atop the servant's wing so the Help is never far away. The kitchen is near the heart of the castle for obvious reasons of the great hall being right there as well.

Taking all of this into consideration, Malvo's clearly closer to the private chambers than the library, since I haven't even reached the kitchen yet, so I don't know who he could possibly be delivering to. Does this mean Malvo spits in **_other_** people's food then?

"My Lord Salvin has dismissed me until the evening time, Young Master, I am merely aiding the kitchen staff. He is still awaiting you in the Library… lest the Lady Fawna has found him, of course." Wait, was that… a joke? I all but let my mouth drop open in surprise, Malvo's droopy eyes holding a quiet look of amusement, thick lips twitching ever so slightly as though to smile.

Well, I suppose it _is_ rather amusing to think about… The Lady Fawna is an auburn-haired young woman from the Eldin province to the east. Frankly, I along with most of other pages and squires like her given her tendency to banter with our Taskmaster, and normally win. This more than not often leads to fewer tasks being assigned to us all together. Her father sent her to the palace with a sizable dowry since she came of age to represent their house in the court, and wait for her to get married of course. Needless to say, the word has been quite recently that my cousin hasn't been able to turn a corner without finding her there ready to strike up some sort of conversation.

Since I'm quite familiar with my cousin's inability to pass up an opportunity to outwit anyone else -or to get back at someone who's outdone him- these encounters have sparked a number of interesting results. If only Salvin wasn't so _withdrawn_ recently, I can honestly say that there's something eating away at him, and be it for good or ill it's causing him to shut himself up in his room for hours on end. In fact, if it's brought him to the point of sending Malvo away for hours at a time, then… well…

By golly, it just shows how absolutely horrid being around girls can be!

* * *

"What did Salvin do to the Zora?" 

The night is all but silent out here on the water, the Fair Lady swaying softly in the waters of Tota's harbor, her sails bundled up and crew ashore with their captain. The moon is a full silver disk in the sky, and as I stand here on the bow, looking out towards the long mast which fires out on a sharp angle over the glittering black waters, the arms of the Lady's figurehead half visible from my vantage point, I watch the only other soul on the ship glance towards me.

"Why are you here? You should be sleeping." The Zora replies coldly, his deep voice gruff as those of most hardened warriors are. The captain told me days ago to keep away from the Zora Prince, but he's the only one I feel I have a right to ask.

"I've been resting since we arrived in Tota."

"Well, you're leaving soon, aren't you? To fulfill your vow."

I take a deep breath and then stifle the urge to sigh with it, letting the air out silently past my teeth as I bring my arms up in front of me, gripping the upper part of one arm and the elbow of the other. I couldn't find a tunic that wasn't red amongst the Hylian crew's things, so have settled for simply a light white shirt over white pants and my boots. Even dressed as lightly as I am with the sea and the moon, the island is boiling hot, the air itself still enveloped in the sweating heat I remember from years ago.

"Tell me what happened to your people."

"As though you don't know."

"Well I don't,"

"Are you a complete fool?" The silver moonlight shines off the dark blue of the Zora Prince's skin, the paler lines of scars across his face and torso easily picked out by the smooth light, and I watch patiently as he turns himself around and stands. Male, female, it doesn't matter, clad in nothing more than several shell necklaces, Jasper is as decent as any of his people. I'm merely thankful that he doesn't have his staff with him just now; his deep eyes even in this poor light have a look of hatred in them.

"If I say I am, will you just answer me?" I ask boldly, not moving as he walks down the length of the beam, jumping with a grace rarely seen in land-bound Zora back to the deck before striding up to me. I hadn't realized how much taller than me he is, broad in chest and shoulders, muscles still lean, but his size makes him clearly much stronger than I am while unarmed. I have to look up to meet his eyes over the hawk-like bridge of his nose.

"Say it then." He demands coldly, and I almost feel as though doing what he says would insult him more than it can get me what I want.

"I'm a fool." I say simply, and I feel myself tense as his jaw clenches. No, this may not go well. "I'm a fool and I don't know what the hell is going on here. Tell me what happened to the Zora."

"My people…" He grits harshly, and I can almost feel the need bubbling up in him to inflict some sort of bodily harm on me. I left the Master Sword on the Queen Zelda for a reason however, I'm not here to fight with the man who holds anger towards Hyrule comparable to that of the Captain.

"My people did _nothing_."

"I didn't ask what the Zora did, I asked what Salvin did."

"Zora do not involve themselves with the land! We look after the waters; that is our duty so given to us by the gods!" The furry in his eyes makes me step back, and although I know it's a sign of weakness as he steps forwards I take another one back to try and gain some distance.

"I know that, just as I know how Tokay are laid back and calm." I bite back a harsher tone, but end up giving in as his eyes flare and I half-catch a sight of his fingers flexing angrily, almost hear the sound of spines forcing their way out of the soft membrane of his fins. "I know the Zora live in nothing more than small clusters now; I know your city is abandoned! Tell me _what happened!_"

"He brought ships; barges. Barges laden with heavy stone and rubble. The ships came in the middle of the night and stopped directly over our city." I swallow hard as, like so many times before, I don't want to hear what's coming. But I just need to **know**. Finally, the Zora prince takes a step back, taking deep breaths trying to calm himself, but unable to do so completely.

"The rocks tumbled down onto our sleeping people, the dirt hanging in the water so as to make it impossible for Zora to see where they were going, where the next stone would fall." My mouth feels dry as I force myself to nod numbly, not breaking eye contact until he pries his eyes away and stares out across the deck, towards the silver-edged waters around the harbor. I let my eyes fall to the blackened boards under my feet.

"We did nothing!" I bite off a bitter curse as the strike lands solidly on the right side of my jaw, so unexpected and powerful that I find myself staring up at the sky and nearly have my legs come up over my head in an unexpected flip as I hit the deck. I don't let myself stay completely down for long though pushing my left elbow into the deck and placing my right hand down on the deck to push myself up into a kneeling position facing him, both hands up as though to emphasis the point of my not being armed.

"We did nothing, and for all your vows, you speak of hopeful dreams." When I actually look back at him, Jasper hasn't advanced at all, his eyes still holding that deadly furry, but one strike seems to have been enough to keep any more violent tendencies at bay.

"The Oracle may change some things, she might rewrite history, but how are we to know what the end result will be?" He speaks to me with a bitter voice, and as I lower my hands I bring myself back up to my feet, watching him carefully but listening more than I'm waiting for another attack. "It's nothing short of foolhardy to peg all of our hopes and dreams for salvation on the abilities of one woman; one woman held in our enemy's hands."

"Did you forget?" I ask, nearly half-way across the deck from him now, and I turn away from him and stride towards the thick banister at the edge of the ship, leaning my back on it as I look to him again.

"Forget what?"

"I'm a fool, remember?"

"What does it matter to you? This isn't your home, this isn't your _life_." Ah, but I've heard that one before… Slightly different, but with the same message.In a future that never came to pass so many people told me that I knew nothing of terror, and in the past I know as home, I'm now the one telling them of horrors only I remember. Is that irony?

"The Princess I've always fought for is a dying Queen, the Prince who was my best friend is a casualty of politics, the Lord I was never very fond of is a blasphemous murderer… You're right, Majesty, this isn't my home, but it has quite a bit to do with my life."

"You haven't lived it as we have!" I've heard that one before, verbatim.

"Does Ambi's tower still stand?" I ask cavalierly, changing the subject and watching as the Zora's head snaps around as though confused. I don't have to repeat myself however, watching him as he nods and I fold my arms thoughtfully.

"It is slated for demolition… The Oracle is to watch."

"From her cage?"

"Likely so, the word is that the Regent will wait until sunset before destroying it with the last of their Goron Bombs…"

I've slowly learned how information is gathered and brought to Tota, although the Zora and the Captain do not get along well at all, the Prince knows the need for accurate information. Those who rebel against Salvin- or actually, I've learned he has a son, a man named Mathias who's slowly taking over for his father- but don't flee to Lynna woods and eventually Tota, gather rumours, gossip, and confirmed facts and deliver them to Zora waiting in the harbour at all hours. Normally this is done with glass bottles, carved bits of wood, perhaps even the rare meeting out at sea, but all in all it seems rather effective… Unless the informer is caught of course…

"Seems like the appropriate time to attack."

"What?"

"All eyes will be on the tower, won't they?" I ask, feeling a chill down my spine at the idea of Ambi's tower falling. Granted, years ago when it bore the name of Black Tower, destroying it seemed like a perfectly grand idea. But in the years since then, everyone decided to accept it as a symbol of Labrynna, as it's truly one of the greatest surviving monuments in the known world. Ralph said he would never let the tower fall into ruin, even if the man it was built to guide did in fact return home.

"Just let the _Lady_ rush in for another raid. Get the Oracle, get out."

"No."

"Excuse me?" I don't flinch as the Prince's voice comes at me sharply, and I run one hand along the dark stained wood of the vessel's rail.

"Raids won't work for your people much longer." I look to him boldly as he opens his mouth to deny Zora involvement with any sort of attacks on Lynna. "And by _your people_, I mean all those who want to see the Regency fall."

"You say the Goron peoples have isolated themselves from Labrynna." I comment, drawing together all the facts I know so far about the land, "The Regent's political platform has more than slightly irritated Hollodrum, and in the north there's an uneasy tension in the air, rumours of Symmetry defecting into the other nation. The _Fair Lady_ patrols the waters and sinks anything that can't prove itself to be a Crescent-friendly band of pirates, or Hollodrumite."

"Hyrule cannot harm us, they have no way of bringing troops into Labrynna." I shake my head at the Prince's remark,

"When Gorons withdraw and become neutral, they become as unmoving as stones." I have a very good feeling that the Prince has next to no experience with Gorons and their commitment to following orders and ideas to the very letter. "You say they collapsed the Labrynnian end of the Continental Road, but that doesn't mean they'll stop however many soldiers Hyrule finally sends when they have enough of all the chaos going on here. Once those soldiers clear the way, it will be a wave of armour clad warriors from the north, if they don't simply bully their way across Hollodrum first. I'm actually surprised they haven't done so already, and can only put that down to what I know of their leader." Zelda would never, ever, start a war. Not unless it was her very last option. And if that hesitation is no longer true in this time, then I don't know what else there's left for me to believe in save my sword and vows.

"Once they gain access to Horon port, and they will, coupling that with the Regent's Navy will leave everything on this island outnumbered and unprotected."

"And when can we expect this onslaught?" Jasper's voice is husky as he speaks, but although there is still anger in his words, it's withdrawn, and I don't need to fear another outburst from him just yet.

"Once the Queen dies, of course."

"And you propose?" Farore, I can't believe I'm saying this…

"… Attack, all of you, all who can fight and are willing to do so. Swarm the harbor and take the city back. Humans and the _Fair Lady_ as the forerunners, Tokay remain behind and man the guns, and Zora take over the Regent's ships." I can feel his dark eyes watching me so closely, I know he's listening to me, perhaps committing what I say to memory, I can't be sure.

"Kalvin wanted peace… He wanted to go to Hyrule, and have that massive army strike down the Regent from the north… Let the Hylians kill themselves."

"Kalvin is dead now, isn't he?" I ask, I keep hearing that name, the man who would have saved them, would have ended it all and built something grand from the ashes.

"…Where will you be then, in this epic battle?" That bitter tone is back again…

"With the Oracle, where else?"

* * *

**I finished this the day before I could actually post it. The site was down…**


	21. Chapter 21

**This chapter was constantly glitching on me at school. If I didn't save it to FF a certain way, it reduced itself to 100 words from two random POVs... In fact the site spazzed on me so badly at one point that I had to re-save this chapter Paragraph BY SINGLE SOLITARY PARAGRAPH to make sure I could take it all home and finish it. BE GRATEFUL. **

**Longest chapter! 7000+ Words! Hans Zimmer! Still a God!**

**Enjoy. **

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**Matters of the State **

Chapter 21

I don't believe I've ever been more utterly flabbergasted in all my life. My tongue won't move and my ears now burn with indignation as I can't very well find a single word to come to my aid. And by the god's faithful wraths she's just smiling at me!

"I'm glad to see that you agree with me, Lord Salvin, but I must be going now, I am to help her Majesty with the arrangements." I can only manage a dumb nod as the sultry blue eyes of the woman who's begun taking up far too much of my time and too many of my thoughts look away from me in a swirl of auburn ringlets. For the life of me, I can hardly utter a word before her hand is on the brass knob of my antechamber door, and I finally gurgle out the very first thing which comes to me.

"You have beautiful eyes." _Oh,_ _by Farore's Divine Gra—!!_

"Why thank you, Lord Salvin… Shall I expect you in my salon tomorrow..? Shortly before the Mid-day meal?" I cannot and will not trust myself to speak again, attempting to banish the foolish look from my face and replace the expression with a look of calm amusement. I force my jaw to clamp itself shut; twitching my lips into as casual a smile as I dare manage, nodding at a calculatedly slow pace. My reward for appearing as a bumbling fool is a whimsical chuckle and a mystic flash of white teeth before she vanishes out the door in a swirl of deep ruby silks and a warm wealth of auburn hair. Even as the door clicks shut there's still the faint aroma of roses and wine from her perfume, but it's still sweeter than both aforementioned fragrances.

I'm mad. Completely and utterly mad.

"Malv—" Oh, right, he isn't here. After yesterday's afternoon and evening spent with my cousin in the Library I spoke with him only briefly when he delivered me my dinner and turned down my bed. I dismissed him again after I turned an unfortunate corner this morning, and even now that it is past the mid-day meal he hasn't returned. Of course, I shall forgive him for his tardiness in coming back to me; he has his duties, and judging by the Prince's pale complexion this morning at breakfast, those duties are being fulfilled.

Regardless, at this very moment I cannot stop to applaud my own genius, crossing towards the nearest window, I pause and take another deep breath of the lightly scented air. My fingers brush the clasp to open the window and allow the summer winds to blow in and carry away the distracting memory, but brush is all they do. I am utterly mad.

Admitting defeat from the window, I quickly cross my chamber towards the ornate yet very functional writing desk. I nearly grind my teeth now at the efficiency of my man, several sheets of my very best writing parchments are laid out, as is a bottle of my finest sand. A sleek, new quill with an exceptionally sharp nub, a well of thus far unopened and purely black ink, an unlit but ready candle, and the appropriate box of tinder with which to light the candle. The flame will be for the two readied seals; my own personal one for a letter home, and my family's mark for the more delicate of the two I am to write. Curse him for knowing me so blindingly well. Curse me for being an utter madman.

I am only just settling myself onto the cushioned bench before my desk when I hear it, the low, rumbling noise of stones grinding far, far below and away from me. I nearly groan at the disturbance, the noise distracting me utterly where my hand was already reaching to uncap the ink. As if the noise were a great blast of wind through my chambers the faint aroma escapes me, and I find myself drawn oddly down in mood at the loss.

All that is left to do now is save the letters now for later. I rise and make my way rather heavy-footed towards the fine basin and pitcher which rest in my actual bedchamber, ignoring the thin crimson drapes and dark posts of the seemingly wider-than-normal bed as I pour and splash the cold water onto my face. Madman that I am, I wash again as I find myself after the first time actually trying to measure the size of the bed, and noticing how empty it looks.

Hopefully now I am in some semblance of control over myself, tempted to dunk my head in entirely and hold myself there until I drown, but recalling that to not be the most appropriate of actions given the circumstances. Contented with my cleanliness, I cross towards the large wardrobe which rests on the other side of the room, normally Malvo would go about choosing my outfit for this afternoon's formalities, but I am not entirely helpless on my own.

And yes, formalities there shall be, at the very least once the runner comes to fetch me at the appropriate time. Given the amount of rumbling going on lower in the castle, and the growing volume, I can only assume that said summons shall be soon in coming. Afterall…

Darunia has arrived…

* * *

"I could not have come as far as I have without my wife." 

The old man speaks so casually as I sit here with no voice with which to answer him. He seems unbothered by my imposed silence, aware of the pain even the softest of sounds causes me after so many evenings spent playing perfectly into his palm. It seems that over the course of our late evenings, he's taken to simply speaking without expect of reply, just looking to fill the silence.

"She lived here with me for many years, after she delivered unto me my son, I was pleased when she also gifted me with a daughter. Beatrice would be perhaps a few years younger than yourself, girl. They live in Hyrule now of course; my wife sits on the Queen's counsel as I did His Majesty's years ago."

Nearly fourteen days have I been kept here now, although it feels as though it should be far longer. Fourteen days of poisoned water and tantalizing meals offered to me only come nightfall and the presence of the slowly aging man before me. He loves to talk, just to hear the sound of his own voice really… I've learned so many things, but at the end of it all it feels as nothing.

"I do so look forward to the letters come next spring, although I'm sure Mathias will turn an ungodly shade of read to hear his sister courting a man on each arm…"

I have found in recent evenings that I cannot stand to look at him, the man who has ruined my home so completely and is passing the torch onto his son to continue the mayhem and chaos. Instead, my eyes from the time I am escorted in until I am taken back to my cell are fixed upon the glass casing behind him. A simple pedestal stands there, a glass box over top and covering a precious, precious artifact of untold power.

He keeps my harp in plain sight, never touching it, never moving it, ignoring its presence entirely. Watching it sit there however, night after night, I am always left with one echoing question, one which leaves me feeling hopelessly empty.

Why am I still here? My voice is lost to me after nights of drinking poisoned water- I am damned either way in that respect, either to lose my voice which is my treasure, or lose my life in the glare of the summer sun. But I am still Oracle, am I not? I do not need my voice to call the harp to me. And now of all times, when I am unbound, could I not simply freeze the moment, snatch it from that pedestal, and make away into the flow of ages?

Somehow, the answer to all of these questions… is no.

As the old man before me is passing the torch of his power onto his son, I have already committed myself to a similar act. From the moment I left Miriam's side in the past, I have resigned myself to the idea of giving up my rights as Oracle, believing I have found my niche in time.

To use the metaphor of a torchbearer, when one holds a flame, is master of it, they may do as they wish. The fires can be used to guide others, to attack or to aid, the are under the unquestioned dominance of their master so long as they are wary of the power they hold and do not become foolish with it.

But, when one passes that flame onto another, they lose that absolute control. It is that weakening of my powers which sent me into this time to begin with, the night the voice came to me across the ages. I'm surrendering my power, regardless of my current predicament and wish to use my abilities to escape. However much I want to be free to find the voice, finish passing on my duty, and return to the time I am meant to live, time is no longer my true domain any longer.

In truth, I have tried to pause time, to vanish into the ages. I tried in my cell a few nights past, when I could hear the sounds of footsteps drawing near. I did not want to look into those burning, emerald eyes again.

I don't quite know what happened to me at that point. I heard a scream that wasn't mine, and the world shook and spun around me before I was back in my cell with the light still flickering beyond my cell and the footsteps continuing, unbroken, towards me. I cannot move through nor control time on my own any longer, yet I don't have the physical strength in my tired limbs to make for the Harp before either the old man or his waiting guards outside can stop me.

So, I wait.

"You should do more than nibble at the bread, girl. You're filthy enough as things are; no need to continue to starve yourself with ignorance..."

I wait, and I don't even know why.

* * *

The largest Goron Cities often hold only a few hundred brothers, and can extend over many mountains. The smallest homes may shrink down as far as only three or four Goron sharing a single rocky summit. 

Hylian cities, large and small, are much more crowded than any brother can truly imagine. Speed must be sacrificed for caution when traversing the streets of human cities, where the people are as Nayru's water. They flow about one another and weaving through each other some how avoiding collision in a way only Goron can connect with. It is dizzying to watch the crowded streets of Castle Town, so many brilliant shades of colours swirling around themselves in a great collage of noise and sound.

It seems the summer has brought many troubles to the home of Hyrule's king. So many dark eyes watched as I rolled into the expansive and overly decorated courtyard of their castle. It is a white mountain of delicate tiling and tiny corridors, like the small tunnels dug through boulders by mice and smaller creatures.

My little green brother was not there to greet me when I arrived, the ornately dressed crowd filling into the courtyard before the mighty oaken doors. My noble brother the king of the town and peoples held melancholy sadness in his eyes, his child with golden hair looked tired and as though trapped in woes of her own. And the Prince whom I have rolled across so many mountains to see was alabaster pale, his cheeks hollow and eyes sunken and dark with fatigue.

I grew bored of the formalities very quickly, but thankfully the human king knows to be brief in such matters. Brother-friendly rooms are being readied for me elsewhere in the castle now, chambers made for Gorons and are near the heart of the castle where the heat from the kitchen fires warms the stone to a pleasant homey temperature which can become to intense for humans in the summer months such as these.

"You do not appear well, young Brother." I grumble lowly, seated on the carpet-covered floor of the Prince's rooms. I made no secret of my intentions to speak with him first, avoiding such a simple and direct issue would do nothing more than delay important business, something humans seem apt to do in most cases.

"I haven't been feeling well recently…" He admits rubbing his mouth and nose with a winkled kerchief where he is seated across from me in a thick human chair with a blanket tucked around his legs. His two servants were fluttering at his sides until a few sharp words from him sent them scurrying off to some other business. I like how he behaves, not enjoying the crushing formality of his position.

"What's the chest for? You haven't let go of it…" Ah, yes, I like this Prince a good deal, feeling a rumbling laugh build in my chest, and not hesitating to let it out in force. I lift one hand from the black box in my lap and pound the floor in amusement, causing the young prince to jump in his chair slightly before settling down.

"I like you, young Brother." I say lightly, stilling my laughs but allowing a wide brotherly grin to remain on my face, watching the Prince as he tilts his flaming red head to the side. "This box is for you from Brother Mousen, the Road Builders found it in the ancient riverbed."

"Really? Why bring it all the way here then?" He asks, looking over the box momentarily where it still rests against me, but his reaction to it seems much the same as mine own. He is curious but does not see much significance behind it. "The Oracle of Ages resides in Lynna city, she would know more about ancient artifacts than I would…"

"It is addressed to you, Brother," I explain, watching his brows lift in surprise, "Or so I was told by Brother Mousen. Old Goron words were pounded into its outer case."

"Well then, could I have a look at it, please?" He holds out one hand to me as though we were old friends who may speak openly, and I am grateful for this as I would not enjoy being stuck speaking to a man who talks in circles and rhymes. I haul myself to my feet with little more than a grunt, keeping the black chest against me as I carry it towards the tiny human and place it in his grasp. In his hands, the box is nearly as long as his shoulders across, but narrow as his hands are long, and deep as they are wide. I sigh as he begins to examine it, and has the look of one who will spend many many hours doing so before doing anything at all…

"This seal…" He murmurs softly to himself, his fingers tracing softly along the front of the casing with a distant look in his eyes. Taking a deep breath however, he seems to shake himself out of whatever stupor he may have been about to tumble into.

"Thank you, Brother Darunia," He says, setting the box down in his covered lap with a nod to me, his fingers absently running along the various grooves and patterns on the box's outer surface, but his attention is on me. I nod gruffly before making to squat and drop my weight back down onto the floor, pausing, I think better of it, and straighten back out. Goron are not people of many words or social rules, but I doubt I shall remain in the Prince's presence much longer.

"I have word as well for you from your native land, young Brother." I grumble lowly, watching the Prince's tired eyes as he stifles a yawn and gives himself a few light slaps across the face as though to wake himself up. He truly does not look well, and for a moment I hesitate to deliver my message, but then I think better of that pause. The longer the words of Brother Mousen are left to stew in my mind, the more likely it is that when I share them they will have altered slightly. Already, I can no longer recall the exact phrasing used by my Brothers atop Big Brother's Plateau, and I can only hope that this will not hinder their message.

"Sorry, I just…" The young Prince closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head sharply, blinking a few times before looking back to me, "I'm awake, I assure you… You were saying something about Labrynna? I've been away for so long already, please, sit down again..?"

"I would prefer to remain standing, young Prince." I reply gruffly, earning a quick nod from the sickly human, noting the wary curiosity in his weary emerald eyes. I draw my thick shoulders back, aware of how my marks as Patriarch are smeared from days rolling through the mountains and across the plains of Hyrule. I have not slept in a good long while or eaten in longer still. I shall deliver my message and hopefully will be able to find my apartments readied.

"Young Prince, your Oracle is missing."

At first, I do not even know if he hears me or not, his expression unchanging as he simply looks at me blankly. Slowly though, he starts shaking his head, almost in the way a stupefied brother will look when told his crop has exploded during the night.

"Wait… what…?" He asks softly, his voice only just above a whisper, his lips tug up in a slight smile, as though he expects me to break into laughter once more and prove it all a jest. I merely press on with the information I was given at the summit.

"Moons ago, Brother. In the springtime, the Oracle vanished and has not returned to your people." Perhaps my hesitation was not to be dismissed, I watch as the young prince's complexion pales more dramatically than it did before, his one-handed grip on the box before him strengthening until his knuckles are white around it. I could swear I almost see him silently mouth the words, _'my people'_, but I cannot be sure.

"Young Brother…?"

"Please leave." I watch him closely for a moment as his almost fevered eyes dart off to the far corner of the room. I nod simply at the blunt request, watching only a moment longer as he balls up the kerchief that was resting on the small table by his chair. Somehow, I can only believe that the ill feeling in the courtyard has been a result of many stresses and tensions revolving or at least including him. I cannot help but feel sympathy for the Prince as I have added yet another worry to his roster.

Neither of us says a word more as I cross the chamber and try as gently as I may to turn the delicate human knobs. The result leaves the brassy metal bent awkwardly, but still functional as I step into the tiny halls of the castle, my head only just clearing the ceiling as I am often made to bend down through most doorways.

I nearly ram right into a small human servant as I step into the hall however, an old man with drooping eyes and cheeks, a gold-like tunic covering his torso as he glances up at me sleepily, but with a keen look about him that I dislike. I am not fond of humans who are not always what they appear. Be they hard looking and yet strangely kind, or pleasant in appearance and foul in actuality, I dislike the two-sided nature too many Hylians display. In his hands he holds a large silver platter with a dome of similar metal over top of it and I merely frown at the sight of him.

"The Prince does not want to be disturbed now." I say simply, more or less relying on my weight and size as a Goron Brother to make him leave, I receive a bobbing bow before the small man pipes up in disagreement.

"His Majesty is not well, it is best for him to eat promptly." I frown lowly at the tiny man, disliking his eyes as they are both tired as an old Brother's ought to be, yet keen as a young Goron with to much pride. In response to his argument, I do the only sensible thing.

I spread my feet and bend my knees, bracing my hands on my legs before I tip back. The stone floor is cold under me, but warms soon enough as I drop to the ground and fold my arms and legs in a solid manner, effectively barring the door.

"The Prince does **not** want to be disturbed." I repeat my message firmly, watching the old man as his eyes dart about to see if there is a way in which I had not effectively blocked the only portal. Clearly finding none, he taps his heels together and performs a modest human bow, another of their strange and unnecessary customs.

"If you're so intent to serve, Brother, bring me something to eat, I shall be sitting here for quite some time."

"Yes, Lord Darunia…"

* * *

All those thoughts, all these fears, all the things that I've been trying to push away. Things I've been telling myself for days now that they're nothing more than simple paranoia because of all the stress, they're all coming back now, and worst of all they're all coming **_true_**. 

By the Wrath of the Gods, I can't believe how my own body's rebelling against me. I could hardly stand on my own to feet for as long as it took to welcome Darunia, my head was swimming in a cloud of nausea the entire time, and the heat only made things worse for me. I haven't felt this bad since I was dragged below the waves on my voyage here to begin with, and even then there was an exhilaration about trying something new, meeting with friendly peoples who spoke a language I understood. Now? Now everything's falling apart, and I can't even stand in the physical sense to try and put it all back together!

Link warned me what feels like ages ago that the younger, unmarried women in the castle might try something to hook me into marriage. Why oh why in any form of merciless hell did things have to boil down to it being _Zelda's_ father coming to me with an offer!? How am I supposed to refuse without insulting the entire court- no, the country!- and finding myself strung up a tree somewhere with my boots sitting under the hangman's bed? By the Gods, I wanted a peace treaty, but I wanted it in **_writing!! _**

Nayru, I'm going to be sick- more sick than I already am that is. I don't even have the stuffed head of a normal illness either. I can breathe just fine, but I'm always freezing and find myself sweating in the nights. I keep finding it harder and harder to walk, and when I can manage the distance without becoming dizzy a dull pain works its way up my chest making my limbs feel like lead…

Oh, Nayru… Nayru, _Nayru_, **_Nayru_**… What's going on? I couldn't banish foul images of her and Lynna once the Bells began to ring and Link ran off to do Farore-Know's-What in some forsaken part of the world. And yet now I hear this? Missing? What? That isn't right… I know Nayru, when she dances off into time, she always tells those around her when she'll be back. Of course, normally she forgets and ends up going off for a few days longer than expected, but she's never long enough to cause anyone- aside from me- any real stress or anxiety.

More stress is the last thing I need right now, I fist my hands in my hair as I stand, pacing nervously across the thick rugs which cover most of the stone flooring. More and more the stately, wealthy air of the castle's been nagging at me, making me uncomfortable with its glamour and expense. I feel like I'm being smothered by the silks and gems in my chambers, but taking to the halls leaves me shaken not only from illness but from all those prying, measuing looks the courtiers give me. It's like I'm coming apart at the seams, and damn it all I can't do anything to stop it! I have to get out of here, I need to escape this place, but how do I manage that without ruining everything I've tried to accomplish?

There's nothing to be done about it though. I look to the thick doors of my chamber as there's a deep, crumbling slam outside, Darunia's voice thunders on the other side, and I almost feel a twinge of appreciation for the Goron's presence. Taking a deep breath, I run my hands back through my hair and drop down into my seat again, sinking into it a ways before just staring blankly at the wall across from me. Gods, what a mess this is...

Sitting up again, I look to the chest sitting on the table next to me. It isn't very big, and it's heavier than I thought it would be, strange in it's colouring and design. But the image of the twining loop of the Harp of Ages and the three images of Time tell me who it's from. Something from the past? My ancestors have left things for me before, but not very often as it's hard to make sure something will last five hundred years, or that whatever the message or item is will be of service when and if I find it.

I take the chest back into my hands, resting it on my lap as I look over the lock. I'm no thief, so I've never had to pick more locks than any normal boy, but thankfully I have the key for this one. I twist the soap-stone ring around my finger absently before slipping it off, tossing it in my palm for a moment as if to calm myself down. I've had to much on my mind recently, hopefully this will be something totally unrelated, and blessedly calming. At this point that's about all I can hope for

The keyhole isn't the same as in a door or most other chests, with no deep, narrow hole to push metal through. This lock responds to the shallow, yet wide fit of the ring's seal. I received the ring from my Grandmother after we agreed that anything she or those to follow her thought should reach me without Nayru's age would be placed in something unlockable with this same ring. It's a wonder I haven't lost it yet, and as I twist the artifact in its place, I'm rewarded with the raspy shriek of the ancient tumblers as they at long last slide into place. Slipping the ring back on, it's simply a matter now of forcing the old hinges to actually open.

For some unknown reason, my ancestors didn't think to put any sort of viable grip on the lid for me to actually use, I can assume that when it was made it opened smoothly, or perhaps they gave it a spring so that it would pop open automatically. Well, if what Lord Darunia told me is true, then I doubt any sort of spring could withstand being submerged in water for hundreds of years in a raging river, and then buried into the bedrock on which the road is being constructed. Wishful thinking, Grandmother.

Finally, with a grunt and a creek, the cursed thing finally gives way, but only by an inch or so. I huff slightly at the lack of progress, grimacing as the musky smell of old paper and possibly some intrusive water which wafts from the opening. Now with a proper grip I pry it the last of the way open, jumping slightly as -with an abrupt _snap-_ the lid breaks off, and I stare at the carved slab of black stone for a moment like an idiot.

I'd toss it to the side, but with my luck it'd likely hit something worth more than half of Lynna and shatter it completely. Setting it down with a sharp clatter by my chair, I have to calm myself again and resist the powerful urge to sneeze as the musky smell grows stronger and less pleasant. I'm accustomed to musks after having grown up in a bloody forest, but five hundred year old mold and mildew is something I prefer to distance myself from.

In any light, a sneeze or violent movement now might very well crumble whatever parchment isn't just a lump of brown-grey powder. Another short coming of my ancestors; paper rots. Then again, the container was already transported via Goron, so I can't really see how of being gentle _now_ could possibly make a difference.

I can't help but be careful though, looking over the contents of the casing without actually touching any of them. I'm surprised to find something more than just letters waiting for me, but at the same time I'm not. There's a bundle of parchment which is a questionable mixture of greens and browns, but I also notice the tarnished sheen of metal. Gingerly, I reach in and gently brush one of the tokens as lightly as I can, careful not to sigh with relief as it doesn't instantly crumble under my hand, not that metal ages the way paper does, but still.

It's a locket, I can see that as I note a strongly maid chain attached to the top of it and coiled into one corner of the box. Lifting it up, I can guess the thin blackened lump is probably silver, the chain all but solid in its little pile after so many years of damp confinement. The Harp of Ages is blazoned onto the front and back of the locket, and I'm a bit surprised to see how large it is. It's a keepsake, not a piece of decorative jewelry, the thin metal casing nearly as long as my hand and just as wide. I'd try to pry it open, but this time I don't want to run the risk of breaking the hinges.

For now I gently set it back down in the chest, and put the entire casing back on the table as I rise. I ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach and light buzz in my head as I cross the room towards the white basin and pitcher for washing. Fingering through the various towels, I pull out a clean white one from the folded pile before making my way back to my seat. Spreading the white across my lap, I feel more relaxed now than I have in days. For all that it matters now I could be sitting back home in my small house just outside Lynna, the only difference is the absence of Nayru fluttering about at my side, grinning widely and looking over whatever we find inside these rare but exciting time capsules. I almost ruin my rising mood with that thought though, and quickly try to force down the sudden anxiety that wells up in me. She vanished...

I pick the locket back up, fiddling with the chain for a moment and blackening my fingertips for my trouble as I give up trying to untangle it and simply set the token down on the towel. The next item is a ring which mirrors the one on my hand, save that it is made with tarnished gold and an old, age-abused stone that I can't name, but I can guess it to be a sapphire for Labrynna. The next item which seems more solid than the letters, though not by much, is a roll of leather, small, only just larger than the locket so I doubt it can be any sort of message. Nobles don't write on leather.

Undoing the musty strip which binds the crumbling hide in a roll, I have to be especially careful as the creased material not only cracks but tears itself almost half-way through as it finds my hands to still be to abrasive. Swearing slightly under my breath, I take care not to cause any more damage, trying to get a better look at it as the daylight seems to be fading through my windows. Whether the dimming is from clouds or from the time nearing evening, I can't tell. It doesn't even seem like I've been at this all that long as I look over the image before me.

It's a footprint, and needless to say I have to blink and look at it again. It doesn't change. It's a footprint- and a hand print is right over it- both are small however, like a newborn's. I haven't found anything so far to tell me which member of my family might've left this treasure box for me, the letters and contents of the locket will probably be the only ways to find out, but a baby's birth prints certainly don't make any sense. Again, this is something Nayru would take more interest in and gather more information from than I can, and again I have to force down the sick feelings which've been plaguing me for to long now.

Careful with the cracked length of leather, it's brown and black surface oddly glossy in the lowering light, I set it down on my lap with the locket and ring. I should probably make to light the candles around my room, seeing as when I twist about carefully in my seat towards the windows, the light coming through the pale drapes is tinted golden with oncoming twilight.

I'm spared the simple task however, the bruised and bent knob of my chambers rattling gently before the door slides open soundlessly upon it's hinges. A young hylian woman dressed in red skirts and a white apron and bonnet of a maid pokes her head in, giving a slight squeak as she spots me looking right at her.

"Ah, pardon me, Majesty. I came to light the torches," Her accent is a bit thick as she speaks, her words mumbling together as she stands in the doorway, a silver platter in her hands and a duster and small pouch hanging from her belt. Some of the city folk from the lower areas have a somewhat slurred accent, something that's hard to pick up on most of the time; I only really notice it in the castle servants.

"Of course, thank you." I say politely, watching as she bobs as graceful a curtsey as she can with the platter. I frown at that though, not the bow, which surprises me, but the platter. I don't… want to eat. For some reason, I feel worse than ever right after I eat, and I haven't the faintest clue why, you'd think a nice warm meal would make me feel _better_.

"I brought your dinner too, M'lord." She mumbles, catching my frown and pausing suddenly, her dark eyes widening at my expression, pursing her lips as her thin face almost looks to go pale. What's wrong with her?

"I see that… set it on the table, if you please?" I'm careful of the chest in my lap as she's wary of the platter in her arms as she bobs another curtsy and busies herself with setting the dish down on the writing desk across the room from me, where I gestured. I don't like being pert with the castle servants, it unnerves me to act like most of the nobility, but she's acting strange…

"Thank you," I say, watching as the quickly goes about with a bit of flint, lighting a small stub of candle from her apron pocket and swiftly bringing back the light to my chambers. She looks almost surprised at my voice, and I watch as she pauses a moment, leaving the candle lit and throwing odd shadows across her long face. She isn't exactly pretty, but she isn't ugly either, just very plain in appearance… I blink slightly as that plain face suddenly breaks into a hopeful open smile.

"Your Grace is very kind. The Princess is lucky to have you." I think I'd feel better if she'd just tried to jam that flame up my nose…

"That's… very nice to hear…" I say, trying to keep the shy smile I felt tug at my lips when she smiled from falling into a deep grimace. Servants… talk. I don't need anymore rumours than those I already have flying around. "That will be all, thank you…" She bobs another curtsey to me, puffing out her candle with a quick breath and quickly -but very quietly- makes her way across the room towards the door.

As the latch clicks shut, I'm left in almost absolute silence, complete but for the rhythmic drumming of my fingers against the stone box in my lap. I hadn't noticed how dark it was really getting in here, my chair facing away from the windows. The maid couldn't have been here for more than a minute or two, but although it was mid-day when Darunia arrived to speak with me, it's well and truly reaching the evening hours now. Somehow, I can't make up the lost time, I just don't know where it went. I can't believe I fell asleep at some point, but, did I?

Absently, I touch the various tokens which are spread out on my lap, I didn't ask the maid for anything with which to try cleaning the silver casing and bejeweled ring. That seems to be another symptom of this strange nausea I've been experiencing, portions of my day, entire afternoons or evenings, are suddenly unaccounted for. It's as though I blacked out for a time before simply snapping back to attention and going on without missing a beat. But, that's ludicrous…

My head is beginning to pound, and I frown as the confusion of my lost hours and the Maid's words start ill thoughts churning in my head again. By the gods, I don't want to review all the miserable problems going on in this castle right now. And as my eyes drift absently to the silver platter with it's dome overtop, I know for a fact that I do _not_ want to eat.

Instead, I look to the letters. I should perhaps go and find a pair of tweezers or delicate brushes, but for the moment that seems like far too much effort to undergo. I can't risk damaging them by curling my fingers underneath trying to get the mildew-shrouded parchments out. Instead, I place one hand flat over the letters but without touching them, using my other hand to pick up the chest, and then tip it, allowing the remaining contents of the chest to fall into my waiting, and hopefully gentle grasp.

I wince as the papers crumble frighteningly as they fall in pieces from their container into my hand, half of them breaking into pieces which fall right through my fingers. Sighing, I set the chest down on the floor with it's broken lid. There were several sheets of paper, and I feel a twinge of regret as, looking over them now, I know for a well-near fact that unless Nayru suddenly waltzes into my chambers, the words will only be half-legible at best.

Sighing, I gently begin to sift through the larger and smaller bits of aged parchment, cursing the hidden flaws in the stone which allowed the water through to the contents. It can't be helped now however, and I have to make due. Eventually I'm forced to gently remove the towel from my lap, taking up an oil lamp from the writing desk and lighting it with one of the candles before I grab a small inkwell, pen, and a few sheets of paper. The added light directly at my elbow is a great relief on my eyes, and after a few minutes of work, I finally begin to feel a small, very tight smile tug at my lips.

"Well, Grandmother… let's see what you have to say…"

* * *

**Hnn, this story's been giving me trouble again lately. There're so many ways to go that I'm having a hard time deciding which way's the best for the tale itself. I have a number of nice and not-so-nice endings that can happen, but it's hard to make any decisions when I can't run through a single scene even once without changing several key lines. It makes things a lot less predictable, and much harder…**

**One of these days I'm going to write a story that in SOME WAY, includes the other two oracles as well as Nayru, one day soon... **

**As in, _'parallel-to-Matters'_ soon…**


	22. Chapter 22

**Wow, I got so excited when I sat down to actually write this chapter, I hope I didn't screw it up at all. Believe it or not, the hardest part was just choosing who's POV to go into, and honestly I wanted to suddenly switch over the Third Person so I could cover everything all at once xD **

**I've been toying with the idea of going back and giving each chapter a title name relevant to what happened in the actual section, but I dunno if I'll change them all or not. I wrote them all down, but… eh… **

**HANS ZIMMER! King Arthur and the Kraken, there is no better music.**

**And so eet begins… Enjoy. **

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**Matters of the State **

Chapter 22

When I first came to live in Labrynna, Ambi's Tower was little more than an ancient, abandoned worksite. It was just lighthouse from some forgotten dynasty far in the past, sitting atop a bluff south west of Lynna harbor. Over the years the township built smaller, less impressive lighthouses on the cliffs to guide ships safely into the harbour, but the massive tower itself was never completed.

Only a handful of people, perhaps three or four including myself can ever remember that time, when Ambi's Bluff had no name, and no massive tower crowning it and gazing out forlornly across the sea. And now, in this time, I have little hope left in my heart that even one of those few others still survives. Were I in my own time again, those who share those memories with me would be Ralph, the Hylain Princess and the Hero of Time.

Ambi's tower was named the Black Tower when Veran, a wicked sorceress under the guidance of the witches Twinrova, used black magic to steal my body and powers. I met Miriam of Ambri through this event, as Veran used my image to turn the gentle queen into a tyrant, killing her people in droves to see her lighthouse completed. At its completion, the ethereal Flame of Sorrow was lit; a key component to the resurrection of the dark Gerudo King.

Even I remember little of when the tower was constructed, recalling only the terrifying escape Miriam, Ralph and I all made as the tower threatened to crumble around us. I remember the final shove Link gave us just as we reached the final door, the light which shone from his hand as dark magic fell over him like a fisherman's net. That magic tangled him and vanished with the boy-hero swiftly back to the top of the tower, where he fought Veran in her true form. Hours later, he was nearly dead when the tower stopped its rumbling and we managed to fight our way back up to him.

I remember how Farore's Hero purged Ambi's tower of its bloody hatred, the spectacle of energy atop it was clear for many miles around and all across the city. We doused the Flames of both Sorrow and Destruction; my cousins Farore, Din and myself, the Maku Tree of Labrynna and her brother in Hollodrum, the Princess Zelda wove the spells about the flames, and the Hylian Master Sword acted as the key to seal it all together. Ever since that day in Past and Future, Ambi's tower has been a symbol of Labrynna, her power as a nation, her ability to stand strong and solitary as the tower does atop the rocky cliffs…

"The debris will likely go towards repairing the roads." I do not flinch as the voice of the Regent reaches me casually from where I am once more suspended over the harbor in this wretched cage. Dressed in red robes which seem too heavy for the summer heat, and silver rings glittering on his fingers, the small old man stands well within my sights on the wharf, having abandoned the blessed shade of the crimson awning set up for him beside the scaffolding which holds up my prison. He arrived on the wharf some time after the sun reached it's crowning height over the harbor, and told me he has come to watch the spectacle of the tower's destruction.

"I do hope Mathias isn't having too much trouble with the populace." Again I suppress a shudder at his words. The harbor and town behind me are all by abandoned today. Early this morning riders went about to all of the larger homes and roused the people, spreading word of the demolition and calling it a tribute to Labrynna's new status in the world. People fled into the streets and ran in droves to Ambi's bluff, leaving all else deathly quiet in their absence. Aside from myself and the Regent, the only other souls within the city, aside from perhaps a few of the old or infirm, are the small troop of soldiers who accompanied the old man as guards. But they number less than seven, and have done little more than talk amongst themselves for hours now.

"Do you still have nothing to say, girl?" The old man sounds bored as he speaks to me, but I do not honour him with my attention, keeping my eyes as they have been since this morning; fixated only one the tall, ghostly image of Ambi's tower. Sleek and majestically black, towering over the tallest of trees for miles around, the sun at certain times of the day causing it's colour to shift to a deep naval blue of it's country. Now however, with the summer sun descending angrily into the western sea, the black stone shines with the colour of blood.

* * *

For over fifteen years now I have served his Majesty and his royal castle. I've taken care of each colt and filly, made the arrangements for all mares and stallions, I've curried more beasts than any other man, and not a single noble's ever lost his seat when I was the one who prepared it. I know each animal within his Majesty's stables as well as I know my own mother. 

"Sh-she _what_...?" I frown disapprovingly at the small boy before me, his pale green eyes flickering nervously about as his injured arm is held up still by the sling the palace healers gave him. The green which is the colour of his lord brings out this boy's eyes, and at the moment it seems almost alien to think that this pale, quivering lad, is the Squire to the Hero of Time. Squinting in pain as the boy seems about ready to burst into full panic, I can only shrug and repeat what I already said.

"She bolted and ran." I say firmly, adjusting the cold waterskin over the swollen side of my head, "Your Lord's horse broke from the caravan, knocked me clear to the ground and took off to the north as though the Dark Lord himself were at her heels. That horse is gone, boy, and good riddance to."

"B-But Master Falon!"

"Good riddance, boy! The King'll just have t' give your Lord a proper, well behaved mount when he returns."

* * *

It's taken nearly seven days, a full ten since we first arrived in Tota Port, and I'm both blown away and yet still left wanting by how much and little has been accomplished. I am not a man of calculated war, or at least I was not when my life became a tool for the gods years ago. Never have I had to compile numbers and lists and supplies with others, take into great account what can and cannot be accomplished in however many hours and days. 

That is not to say I have never worked in the company of others, but not so closely as this. I have always been told to strike out on my own at some point, to find something, to gather something, always searching and questing. I'd never been a man of the military.

When I came to live in Hyrule Castle, that began to change, at least in part. I was knighted as a boy out of thanks and honor by the King, but never received any sort of training in the various areas real squires and knights do. It wasn't required that I spend years as a servant, learning histories, practicing etiquette, read poetry, or take classes in the art of war, my ability to read was in itself very weak. That first year or so was one of tedious study which- quite frankly- annoyed and frustrated me to the point that I all but ran away from the castle all together. If I hadn't befriended Zelda as I had, I probably wouldn't have stayed very long into that first winter.

Etiquette and reading were familiar to me in most ways, although it still took me a number of months to meet Zelda's approval, but tactical study was a foreign concept to me. Sir Ladekhan overtook my studies there, and I can only give thanks that he has as good a sense of humour as he does a deep understanding of battle. But dark winter nights spent hunkered over maps, placing coloured markers at strategic locations, and trying to outsmart another man is entirely different than actually going about a campaign in the real world.

First and foremost, you don't have complete control over the situation, you can't make choices completely on your own. Even now, today, I cannot expect the weather to hold, I do not know that something won't go terribly wrong. No amount of planning or preparation in the entire world can save us if a stray spark below decks blasts the ship's hold to cinders.

I feel as though I haven't managed a smile since the day I made my vow, and save for the night I spoke with Jasper the Master Sword hasn't left me. I haven't even tried to look for another blade to use in battle, I've sworn my oath and the sword will hold me to it, any who will die at my hands now will lose their life to the god's blade. If the Gods did not approve of this then the sword wouldn't feel so contented where it rests on my back, ready, waiting as I keep myself steady on the high deck of the _Queen_, a looking glass held up to my eye as I peer towards the mainland, and Lynna Harbor.

"All's quiet in the city?" I say, not looking to Jasper where the Zora Prince has his threatening staff and stands strongly beside the wheel. A young man from Tota, dressed in the red tunic and burnished helm of a Hylain soldier, holds the ribbed wheel between us, guiding the ship as smoothly as he can through the calm waves. A fair distance behind us, nearly half a mile if not more, there are several other ships trolling through the shallowing waters. Captured ships, Pirate ships, vessels built in the harbor over the years, even large fishing boats are present, their hulls fitted with cannons, holds brimming with waiting men and kegs of threatening powder. The only ship not present is the _Fair Lady_ herself; her target is not the harbor.

"As death." Jasper replies gruffly, and I steadily follow the lines of the wharfs, accommodating for the sigh and tilt of the ship as she continues to crawl forwards. Over my head the three masts of the _Queen _bear the scorched and mended lion sails she was captured with. All those on board are dressed in dead men's cloths and armor, if all goes well there will truly be little fighting for some time now.

The plan is relatively simple for all the arguing it took to draw up. We're going to take the city, capturing the harbor hopefully without a fight and hold it until the business at the tower is complete. The Captain and his men forbade anyone else the right to go with his crew to Ambi's bluff, and to be honest it was not easy for him to win that battle of wills against the men. Whatever happens in the tower, the soldiers who return to the city will likely be the ones to cause us trouble. But the numbers are on our side, not only are there several vessels filled with men come prepared to fight, but the people themselves are with us.

"I see her." I say shortly, the lens focusing on the end of one of the harbors many wharfs. From this distance I can only guess that the cage suspended over the waters is the one I'm looking for, but for some reason I know I'm not wrong. As the ship continues towards what was once her home port, I feel my jaw tighten as a mass of red is also visible to me.

"Is she alone?" Jasper asks, firing the question shortly as I can feel his dark eyes watching me closely. He still hasn't warmed up to me since that night well over a week ago.

"No, soldiers are nearby, meaning the Regent likely is too. It's just as we thought." I remove the lens from my eye, turning towards the Zora Prince as the only unresolved matter of our plan comes to a head. Do we barrel on ahead with all ships present, appearing as a massive force, and undoubtedly leading to men running down from the bluff, here and now, to fight? Or do we withhold, pull the Queen Zelda into the harbor and then attack on foot when they don't expect it?

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I stretch my shoulders as I pass the looking glass off to another of the port men who's been standing nearby. Closing my eyes, I let out a hard breath and try to think. This is a question that's led to so many arguments and frayed tempers, but we need an answer, and we need it now.

"If we are quiet, fewer men will die." Jasper recites coldly, giving voice to my thoughts, "If we are bold, the battle will be hot and bloody." I feel as though a rock has settled itself into the pit of my stomach, Farore, I don't like having the idea of other people's lives resting on my choices. Risking your life to save someone you don't know is not the same as ordering others to die on your orders.

"What is Ambi's Tower worth?" I say at last, lifting my eyes and looking- not to Jasper- but to the wheelman and the man behind him. Clad in their Hylian armor, the two men both blink as I round on them with the question, looking to one another briefly. Somehow, I already know that the number of lives to be lost isn't what makes this choice as difficult as it could be; it's what those precious hours before the battle may cost us.

"The Tower is… nothing, M'lord." One of them stutters after a moment of thought, as though the wind filling the sails and pushing us forwards bids him speak quickly before fate decides for us. "'tis just stone n' mortar."

"But it…" The other man wets his lips now, and I place one gloved hand on the wheel, holding it steady on it's path as the two actually turn to face one another, as though reading one another's thoughts. In how many ways is Ambi's Tower like the Temple of Time? It's just… a building… something made by men whose names are lost, something that's always been where it is, where you expect it to be forevermore. I know what it's worth…

"It's everything…"

* * *

"Ah... Goodness, doesn't that look like the _Queen Zelda_?" I blink at the old man's words, my eyes filled with the garish afterimage of Ambi's Tower as I look towards the sea, where white sails blazoned with a crimson lion are slowly coming into view over the horizon. Even from this distance, the sails are clearly damaged. For a moment I almost thought he meant the Queen herself, the wise Princess memory shows me, but at the sight of those sails, I know that isn't the case. Disheartened, I find my eyes drawn slowly back towards the tower steeple. 

"She's long overdue in her return, I look forward to her captain's explanation… for… …" Blinking slightly, I betray myself as the old man's words slowly taper off. Looking to him curiously I'm able to see one bejeweled hand come up and rub his bald, spotted head.

I follow where I know his eyes to be, looking to the horizon and wishing to see what has at last found a way to silence his conceited prattling. What I see is the ship he named the Queen, and behind her, I see… small bumps on the horizon… black ones… black like-

"Gustav! Ready the horses!" Black like sails. Ships, a fleet of them following the head ship, the lion crest crumpling on it's masts as lines are snapped and drawn, cloth of either black or deep blue- I cannot tell the difference in the glare of the setting sun- swiftly running up the masts to take it's place.

I cannot make out any sort of designs on the vessels farther back, but I nearly cry out as the ship in front, I am able to make out the white lines of a crest. The strong image of a tower set against the deep blue, the sunlight picking out the traces of gold which draw Ambi's Tower proudly on a crest I helped a young prince design.

I do not know who, I do not know how or why, blinded as I am I cannot even know if those aboard those ships even know I exist. But that doesn't matter, not now, all that is important is the sick sense of joy welling in my stomach, a crude, vile mirth which burns through me as no poison ever could. I have seen revolutions, seen bloody tyrannies come crashing down about their ruler's ears. And as I watch the beginning of a new one come to life about me, I can only allow a sickly wicked smile to spread across my face, stretching my sun-burnt skin, causing sharp pain across my chapped lips.

He is going to _fall. _

"Ride to the tower, alert my son. Abandon the cursed monument if need be, but bring the soldiers back! Go!" I hear the sounds of hurried boots clattering along the docks. I feel no reason to shift my eyes from the horizon as those dark sails continue to draw closer, as though Farore were blowing their sails full with her winds, ushering them closer.

"My Lord, the carriage isn't-"

"I don't need a seat, ready a horse and I'll ride back." You can't run now, oh how I wish I could utter those words to him. If my voice were to come back to me for only a moment they would pass my lips without hesitation, but as I am now I am confined to silence, and bare it for the sweet reward of the panic working its way into his normally snide voice. I am almost ashamed of the pleasure I am taking from this turn of events, but it takes hardly a thought before I trounce those sentimental feelings, I owe the man behind me nothing; he who has taken everything.

"Kill her." This brings my attention immediately back from my thoughts, my eyes snapping from the sight of the oncoming armada. Suddenly, I am a prisoner again, and I feel as though my glee has been wrenched from my heart, the smile which held my face falling from me as a dead weight.

Weight. I feel my breath catch in my throat, my gaze filling with the churning greens and blues of the harbor below the thin metal of my cage. Thin, but heavy, the water beautiful, but deep. Since that first day and the sudden drop from the full height of the scaffolding, I have forced this fear away, the same one which even -before the cage- haunted me endlessly.

Drowning. To be encased in water; that which gives all life and order too all the world. That fear drove me from what was once my home, that terror; it bid me stay in the woods that became my place. To stay with a boy who wanted to know who I was but never imitate my abilities.

To want to scream but have no voice to do so, is hell. So much release can be had by simply allowing ones voice to rise unbound by manners or circumstance, and yet this simple relief is denied me. I feel the air rush from my lungs as I hear the sharp crack of metal gears, the groan of aged wood, and the rattling of rusted chain as I fall.

The sound of water firing away from me as the metal bottom of my cage hits the surface is loud as cannon-fire, and the ocean is swift to fill the gap I leave. I watch as terror surges up within me, eyes burning with frantic teas, holding my –for once- unbound hands out towards the sea-green surge as though to keep them at bay. Like intrusive, freezing hands, the water swirls about me, clutching at my ankles before swirling about my waist, rising, rising, rising…

I feel myself scream, but hear nothing, the entire world drowning me out, so frustrating, so terrifying. And that the last thing I should see before the water crests my head is the black sails of salvation…

I can't even scream.

* * *

My ancient Lady slices through the rougher waters surroundin' the bluff which holds the same name as the woman I once called mine own. Ambi's Bluff, and her Tower high above it, a black streak against the sky whose aerie shines light so far out t'see t'was a wonder years ago how I did na see it all those years. It drew me home, it did, just as she wished it to, but too late. I came ashore a skeleton afore her ancient kinfolk, an I failed him as miserably as I did her o'er five hundred years past. 

Now though, I shall make amends. I'll let no sniveling Hylian bastard chip a stone in her tower, and any who come between myself and that promise are as good as dead un'er my boots!

"Weigh anchor, sea dogs! Take th' boats ashore!" I caw blackly, my sword rattling in her sheath at my hip, pandering to my bloodlust and willing to drink deeply this night. Even with the roar of the waves as those rocky, blue-stained cliffs come near, with the crimson sun settin' in the far west, I can all but hear the hundreds a Lynna folk standin' at the Tower base, raisin' their voices now as they haven't in nearly twenty years of oppression. Not since the day they toppled the Hero's Statue outside the Maku Tree's sanctuary- and a bloody day it was- have the people fled in droves to the site of any other atrocity against their sovereignty.

All about me long boats crash into the heaving, foamy sea, and I fist one hand against my ship's wheel tightly. Her anchor will keep her steady in th' waves, I know it, but naught a single of my crew shall be aboard to keep her well and truly safe. I laugh bitterly at the reminder of how my men reacted when I said we was goin' ashore for the first time since we tartly told off the Regent twenty years ago. Tartly, with cannon fire ringing in his ears, smoke veiling his city and shambled navy.

The longboat rocks dangerously far to each side as I swiftly vault with one bony hand over the thick rail of my storm-weathered ship, falling to the waters below but landing solidly on the rickety boards. I dunna say a word as I shoulder my way t' the front, placing one booted foot on the bow of the tiny vessel, and listening as my men clamber for the oars and begin to heave with a dark ferocity about them. My Lady was their queen, and although we did abandon her laws, we will protect all that she has left us with.

The bluff itself is of course a cliff, but after the main bulk of blue stone she tapers off into lower rocky ground, before eventually leading deeply into the woods of the Fairy Folk. My men and I shan't go so far as that, the lot of them heaving for all they're worth at the oars with the strength of men who cannot tire from physical work, I can still feel the roll of my own ship under my feet before I am knee-deep in icy ocean water, darkness coming fast upon us as the tower catches the fading rays of sunlight. Stones crunch under my lichen-covered boots like the breaking of bones, and my men spill like black shadows from the boats, nearly thirty undead men in all, and they vanish into the low brush as I hurry to remain in their midst.

The trees and low-lying shrubs almost seem to part for us as I hear the soft hissing of cutlasses sliding from their sheaths, small hand-axes being sifted about between bony fingers, knives, maces, the rare foreign sword or two, my men are well equip for what is to come. I dunna stop as at last a light which is not the sun becomes visible, and I can practically sense the lives of those I'm about to take, the ground growing steeper as the plant life thins out.

They've lit torches about the tower, an've planned where to place each keg of explosives so as to send the massive tower toppling into the waters in a grand show of ignorant power. Were I still a man of flesh I would be hard pressed to keep a solid pace, but I know no tired feelings anymore, heat rushing down my bones and back up again with fiery rage. I can hear voices now, pitiful and weak; the cries of Lynna's people as they've milled about the base of the tower. Topping one final rise, I hold one hand out as a sign for my men to take pause, and obediently each skeletal shadow halts in his tracks.

My lady's tower was built akin to a castle, with a wide, high wall about its base and entrance in a hexagon shape, mimicking the tower's six-sided design. From where I stand I can see people milling about, the solitary northern gates blocked by a hefty metal grate. That barrier likely something built simply for this occasion, as any sort of doorway that imbedded within the tower has probably been reduced to little more than shrieking rust after so many years of disuse.

Although my men and I approached from the sea to the south, and have made our way east since we landed, we have come north enough so that I may still look down onto those gates, and see the large wooden platform which has also been set up before them. I feel the black hate which has built up within me over the years well up in a choking wave. Even from this distance I can see him, clad in wealthy fabrics like his father so many years ago, the man who thinks himself a messenger of the gods, corralling people under the monarch his own father is simply waiting to watch fall. I will have his head tonight.

"Cap'in?" I hear one of my men whisper to me harshly through the encroaching darkness of the night. I can only assume that the tyrant is waiting for the rising moon, or simply the lightless black of the precious minutes after the sun has fallen and the moon is still making to rise, to shatter Labrynna from the ground up. Those bastards think ta topple our Queen's tower inta th' sea, fools the lot of them; dead fools. Despite all my anger and words however, our time grows short.

"Kill any that stand in your way," I drawl lowly, my teeth clicking against one another as my hands go for my sword at last, and I can feel a shudder ripple through my hidden crew as my blade hisses softly from her casing. As my ancient partner settles herself within my skeletal grasp, it is as though I put a fold of cloth o'er mine eyes; I canna see lords and peasants. I canna see th' people a prince woulda' led to glorious golden days. I see obstacles, I see a goal, and by the cursed gods who damn me, I dunna have a care in the world as to how much blood must be spilt afore that tower stands without threat once more!

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**Yes, this'll take a while, but tell me what about this story hasn't required a bit of waiting? And yes, I jumped back to the castle, don't worry! That's just to make sure next chapter can come along smoothly, since this was yet another building chapter and not full action. This almost came out as Matters' shortest chapter, but I was able to fill in the blank spots.**

**Hehe, I remembered part-way through this chapter that an important section with Nayru never went in, yet I've been writing her as thought it has. Meh, it probably would've made last chapter's section with her more productive than it was, but too late now. La-dee-da, not going in next chapter xD**


	23. Chapter 23

**I wrote the stable master's name as Faron instead of Falon last chapter, that's been edited. Faron is a Hylian province xD One of the tricky things about this, last, and probably next, chapter, is that almost everything going on between Nayru, Link, and the Captain, is happening at the EXACT SAME TIME, only deviating by a minute or two back or forth to cover everything. This is why I'm constantly mentioning the sky and its colour, especially since being that they're fighting at dusk, that is a fairly accurate way to measure time. Link isn't high, I'm just giving another references.**

**Hans Zimmer must be mentioned in every chapter, even if it's very hard to write something on par with the sense of drama and action found in his music. The guy who writes the Zelda music isn't too shabby either. Dragon Roost Isle Remix and the Kraken...**

**Enjoy.**

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 23

"**_Jasper!_**" I look across the deck only just in time to watch the bottoms of the Zora Prince's flippered feet vanish over the railing into the water below, where a small army of his people have been swimming doggedly with the fleet ever since they met up with us on the high ocean. I can only pray he saw the Oracle as I did through the looking glass, and that he isn't calmly going down to check his people.

"Ready the boats, load the guns!" I shout, snapping the looking glass into it's salt-encrusted casing and unthinkingly looping it into a belt at my hip, I might need it again. For all that I'm a knight, and -as it's come to pass- one of the commanders in this battle, I shirked off the idea of wearing Hylian armor, the only times I've done so in the past have been once or twice at very formal occasions, such as when I was actually knighted, and that was a horrendous affair considering I'd been twelve at the time. I have no wish today to bake myself in heavy, bulky metal, slip on something and drown in the ocean.

I have my chain mail on under the thick white cotton of my shirts and a grey woolen tunic covering my torso, grey trousers and simply brown boots and belt make me stand out amongst the burnished armor and crimson tunics of the men. What sets me truly apart however -aside from the bottled fairy behind my back at my belt- are my weapons. My torso is crossed with leather straps which are worn with use and fit me comfortably, the first holds the well-made length of my quiver against my back, the container bristling with fresh arrows from the port city, my bow itself is also tucked into the straps which holds the quiver. The second harness holds the Master Sword itself, it's winged hilt protruding over my left shoulder in comfortable reach of my left hand.

At my order the activity on deck fires up from the tense quiet it fell into ever since we came within sight of the shore. Thin rattling voices echo up from the hold where Tokay -who are not fighters- are stationed at the various guns all along both sides of the ships. I nod to the man at the wheel as we cruise easily into the middle of the harbor, and I jump down to the lower deck with the rest of the make-shift crew.

"Drop the anchor and turn her! Now!" I stomp my booted feet as I shout for the anchors, making sure the men down below know who I'm speaking to. I want the ship to wheel about so that her side faces the shore, allowing more of her guns to be of use even as it forces her to pose a larger target. The massive chains which hold one of the ship's four anchors rattle loudly below decks as the Tokay do in fact listen, and for all the contempt they hold me with they do as I say. Almost instantly one of the front anchors crashes into the water, and I feel the ship begin to tilt as the chain interrupts its forwards momentum. Men all but run up the ropes, climbing along masts as though they've walked them their whole lives, undoing knots and tying new ones, dropping the black sails as the second, third, and finally the fourth anchors all drop, solidly stopping the _Queen _in the heart of the harbor now as the rest of our fleet is making it's way threateningly into the calm but dangerous waters.

All this time I've been counting silently in my mind, seconds ticking by like grains of fine sand since the cage fell from it's perch and into the water. There is no way in which I can expect to reach Nayru now, and I already know that it **is** her in the water, but that doesn't stop me from being one of the first to vault the rail of the Queen, my boots thudding loudly as I reach for the nearest oar, men piling in around me.

"Hurry, men! Get us ashore!" I shout, gripping the handle of the oar in my hands tightly before bracing my feet against the seat in front of me and pulling back with it as far as I can. These men may not be soldiers, but many of them have lived on the sea for most of their lives, by the second stroke nearly half of us -nearly ten in this boat alone- row in sync, by the third I can watch as water splashes dangerously high against the sides of the boat as we power straight towards land.

"Where did she go down?!" One of the men shouts between heavy gasps, not breaking pace with his oar as I crane my neck around to see the wharf she dangled from suddenly so close to us.

"Close enough!" I draw my oar in and swiftly make to stand, not taking the needed moment to steady myself as the boat tilts and tips dangerously with my shifting weight. There are other long boats already in the water, catching up to us both from the Queen and the other ships as they draw in their sails upon entering the harbor proper, I know now that it's only a matter of time before cannonfire breaks the eerie twilit silence. The sky already is a deep crimson over our heads, the sun shining it's last without yet the moon to take it's place, I don't spare the sunset a proper glance however, placing one booted foot on the edge of the boat, and hearing a number of startled shouts from the men as I pitch myself forwards and into the water.

The weight of my mail and sword is suddenly crushing on my back as the icy waters envelope me from head to toe, nearly causing a startled gasp to pass my lips. My first instinct is to fight the sudden downward pull the extra weight gives the water, but I crush that urge and kick forwards instead, bringing my arms forward and propelling myself through the water, straining my eyes to see through the murk as the daylight fades.

The first sight which is clear to me are Zora, several of them spiraling around a black shadow resting precariously on the rubble which makes up the supports for the wharf. Kicking forwards, I swiftly recognize the shape of the cage I saw from so far out, although I can see no movement within it. It is only through the grace of the gods that it landed where it did, and as I come closer still I can see the Zora trying to pull it up and away from the edge on which it teeters. If it falls from the height of the rubble where it lies now, it will create more distance for them to cover to bring her to the surface.

My lungs are already beginning to ache from lack of air when I feel something brush against my leg, I jerk in the water out of surprise, seeing only a flash of silvery fin before a hand closes over my wrist, and I'm suddenly being pulled along through the water far faster than I can swim normally. The sight of a long, coral-laden staff is the only clue as to whom it is, and I don't fight the Zora Prince's pull as he brings me swiftly to the cage.

He leaves me to float right beside it, his lithe form spiraling over itself repeatedly as he clears the water of those who aren't serving to help keep the cage from falling into deeper water. His staff comes around and the low silence of the water is interrupted by the forceful clang of the coral-staff striking the lock of the cage, one of his arms flailing about to send away the Zora who can't help. I can't hear their voices under the water, but the meaning is clear as several of the porpose-like beings scatter in flashes of quicksilver.

The light is so bad down here, I can hardly see the figure within the cage, her hair like a cloud around her face so I can't see her face, but I feel a numbing flash of panic as she isn't moving anymore. It's awkward, and normally doesn't work, but I reach over my shoulder with my left hand, having to fight with the Master Sword as the scabbard threatens to come over my shoulder with the blade itself. The effect the blade has on the water is one I've always experienced yet never been able to explain, light just seems to return to the water around me even as I know the last of the sun is dying in the sky. The light doesn't have a source though, but is simply there and allows me to see more clearly through the murk.

As outrageous as it may seem, I've had to fight under water on a number of occasions, but always with a variety of tools at my disposal, even including very useful armor which can keep the burning pain from my lungs for what feel like hours on end. I have no such armor or weapons now however, only my mail fighting to keep me level in the water and a sword which is impossible to properly swing without sending myself spiraling off with displaced force. Zora do not have this same problem considering they live and die within the water only rarely coming on land, but they aren't built with the same sort of strength required to heft a land-bound weapon.

I can hear my heart beginning to pound in my ears, can feel it throb in my neck as I bring the sword around, I aim the tip of the blade down, both hands around the hilt as I jam the point to wedge into the space between the lock and the rest of the cage. I don't have time to consider the heavy metal to be stronger than the Master Sword's make, doing my awkward best to tilt my weight back on the blade. Black spots are beginning to dance across my vision as a few pure white bubbles escape past my lips and through my nose. I can't stay down here much lo-

Jasper's spear comes around again, from the same angle as my blade, and I feel a sudden jolt up my arms. The sound of shattering metal echoes through the water and I all but panic as the Master Sword slides forwards beyond my control. Throwing my shoulders back, my legs come forward uselessly as I drag the sword back, my lungs emptying against my bidding as my eyes are suddenly filled with silver scales, and I feel hands reaching for me. I'm moving so suddenly I hardly realize it, suddenly focusing only on making damn sure I don't let my hands slip from around the Master Sword's hilt, this is the last day of my life on which I can afford scrounge around for another blade, or suffer the loss of this one...

My head breaks the surface and I gasp and splutter for air, coughing violently as all around me is darkness before far off torchlight becomes visible, picking out the details of the night as it reflects off the gentle waves around me. I'm under the wharf, being pulled between the pillars towards the shore itself by at least one Zora. As my boots stumble across stones, I finally think to stand on my own, struggling with the weight of my light armor, my near empty quiver, sodden bow, and cumbersome length of my sword.

"She isn't breathing!" Still gasping to keep myself alive, I fumble with the Master Sword, numbly finding it's scabbard and sliding the blade back into place. Turning on unsteady feet, I can hear boots thumping overhead, but pay it no mind now. Jasper's imposing form possibly holds less grace than I do just now, but I don't take the time to examine him, more worried about the slumped, soaking form in the Zora's arms. Careful not to trip on the gravel-covered ground under the wharf, I quickly come back to the water's edge as he drops down and sets the woman on dry land.

It's to dark to see the colour of her hair now, the last of the crimson fading from the sky and the torches to far away to shed real light, so I reach out quickly for her face. After the water her hair is covering her face completely and I don't think to be gentle as I quickly wipe as much of it out of the way as I can, wanting to see her face. By Farore's Grace, please be-

"It's her," By the gods I could weep from the relief seeing her face brings me, now I can go _home_.

"She isn't **_breathing!_**" Jasper repeats heatedly, clearly thinking I don't sense the urgency of the situation,

"I know that!" I snap back, snapping myself from my thoughts as I ignore the pain in my knees from suddenly kneeling down on the sharp gravel. Placing my ear over her mouth I hear nothing and feel a flash of panic. Moving, I fist one of my hands and place it over the center of her torso, where the ribs come together over the stomach. Bracing myself, I pump down with both arms, counting to ten before checking her breathing again.

"You're not dying, Nayru," I grunt, trying to keep myself calm as the world seems to quiet around me, Jasper mentioning something about ships to the few remaining Zora around us. The footsteps overhead are louder now, more men from the ships coming ashore and running around the harbor now, getting ready for the force that's likely to come down from the tower at any time. But although I know that's what's happening, I can't focus on that now, I just keep watching her face.

"I won't let it happen, Oracle, now _breathe!_"

* * *

"Merc-" Bone, sinew, and blood, me blade cuts through t'all. Th' Hylian who tossed down 'is sword afore me an held both hands up falls ta th' ground, head danglin' from the bloody chain mail hooded o'er his head. A livin' man'd feel a dull ache in 'is arms by this point, but I merely chuckle, windmillin' me blade 'bout my head twice with a whoopin' sound, a'fore bringin' her down again, carving a bloody streak across the face a' th' next young lad who dare come near. 

"Mothe-" The next boy stops cold in his tracks, the panicked crowd havin' thinned out now that bodies litter the rocky ground. His eyes stare at me with stark terror, helmet lost as his dark locks are plastered to his head with heavy sweat. A true boy, this one, his face splotched to prove it.

"Stop- _don't!_" It's a woman who calls out to me, but to no avail as with a wide sweep, the boy falls to the ground with a split head. I'm nearly unbalanced as somethin' runs up against me, shrieking and screaming. Hands of flesh beat at me as though they could do somethin' against a cursed soul as I, annoyance bubbling up amongst the raging heat the battle's brought me, and I dispatch her as swiftly as I did the boy she's crying about bein' her son. My sword-less hand closes about her throat, and I hoist the small, aging woman up, scoffing as her peasant shoes kick against me uselessly, her fingers grappling with my boneless ones.

"Go with 'im then," I hiss, tightenin' my hold, and soon I am rewarded with the wet crunch of bones shatterin'. Th' old woman goes slack in my hold, an I drop the hag in a dismissive heap.

"Monsters! Demons!" I canna help the laughter that wells up at the screams about me, not a speck a' guilt stainin' my cursed self now as my sword drinks deeply around me as I walk. I haven't strayed from my simple course since decendin' inta' th' crowd precious minutes ago, the gates to Ambi's Tower comin' ever closer as my eyeless gaze travels the stage and shadows hungrily.

I can see 'im, hidin' in the shadows un'er the gates, his back t' th' fightin' as though I dunna know he's there.

"**_For_** **_Hyrule!!_**" Without breakin' pace, or turnin' my head in the slightest, my blade whips out for the scum who dares bring arms against me. The wrenchin' force of his throat tearin' against my weapon sends dark laughter ripplin' through me as I let another corpse drop, the gates comin' ever closer.

The stage set up a'fore the gates is only a few feet high, an' I jump the height of it smoothly an' without pause. There be no soldiers here now, citizen's scatterin' like gulls, bloody corpses left, right an center, the dead, the dying, utter chaos ripplin' about th' tower's base. Me boots trump along the dry wooden planks, men screamin' in the fightin' behind me, screamin' a ships in th' harbor, 'n attack on 'em all. I laugh at those cries as hard as I 'ave all th' others. Th' sky so swiftly is blackenin' above us, no moon yet ready to rise as the angry red of scattered torches is the only light to be had.

"You time's run out, boy," I drawl darkly, walkin' with smooth calm guiding my steps, holding my rage at bay so as to make sure I remember this moment well.

My grim pleasure in the evenin's events suddenly sours, the rattlin' of metal and chains reachin' me from the gates, an' suddenly the scamp is beyond my reach! Rushin' ahead t'wards 'im, the way the gate was fashioned it was built with a door within the grate, and I dinna see it till now as the bastard's key unlocked it! Grappling with the sharp edges of the metal, I throw myself at the now closed portal, snarling in outright furry, those firey green eyes watching me grimly from beyond my reach.

'e has a fevered look 'bout him, a torch from within the walls now in 'is hand as 'e stands there. 'is pale, blond hair be out a place now what with the sudden furry of battle about him. Flaxen strands shinin' gold in the crimson glow of the fire in 'is hands, tunic rumpled an' eyes aglow with fierce passion.

"I should be king." He utters blackly, and I slam my sword back inta her sheath, bloody as she is, fightin' with the iron barrier though it'll do me no good now. "Do you hear me, Demon? I should be _king!_"

"Stop standin' there like a coward, boy!" I seethe, not wantin' ta hear his sqabbles. Despite mine own furry, I watch as his pale, well-bred face twists into a vile look of hatred,

"_'My cousin will be king'_, he says,_ 'your cousin will be king'_, _'We shall make sure the rightful branch inherits'_," What foolish ramblin' be this? I all but growl as an animal in the back a me throat as he continues on, speakin' only for the sake a hearin' 'imself prattle on like a fool. "_'That is our duty'_, _'obey your duty'_, to hell with duty!" Reachin' me fleshless hand out at 'im in a slash though I 'ave no claws to do real damage to 'im, the young man's voice rises in feelin', the torch swingin' out t'wards me and catches me hand full in it's flaming head.

I have na' felt pain in to many years t'count, but as those hot fingers lick at me bones I hear a shout a pain afore I even know it to be mine. Jumpin' back in a start, I grit me teeth in anger afore throwin' myself forwards again. I have naught the strength of a living man, but well more what with this black curse upon me, an as I hear the metal groan, feel it bend against me, I grin wide and dark.

"I should be King, Demon! Me! My father Lord's over a third of the world; the Queen is dead!" Fevered, aye, his eyes are fevered with greed an' power, for a moment I nearly think that 'haps maybe the Regent makes no grab for the crown 'cause of that greed, but swiftly I think otherwise. They are both rotten t' th' core, they jus' see themselves differently... "The Queen is dead; and I should be **_King!_**"

"A dead man is what ye are!" I shout blackly, interruptin' his damnedly annoyin' shriekin'. "Destroy th' tower an die 'neathe 'er. C'm out 'n lose yer sickly little head!" I dinna need ta tell 'im that, I know he knows his own death be upon him now, else he'd not be pourin' out his 'art ta me. Shame though, I'd rather rip it from 'is body than 'ear 'im preachin' on 'bout it.

Had I blood, it would run cold. The moon be risin' now from the east, castin' pale shadows about which be played with by the flickerin' torches. With that silver, ghostly light, I can see a line a black runnin' 'cross the flagstone courtyard within the walls. Only one reason for that smudged, scuffed line comes to mind; gunpowder.

"**_Don't!_**" Fear, it cuts through the broilin' hatred runnin' through me strong as a bolt of lightnin'. That green-eyed demon, he watches me throw myself against the bars again, the metal groanin' but not givin' way t'me as I struggle against them. I am a haunted man, but when my death was denied I became reckless in my actions, any fool knows that he who has no end shan't fear it's comin'! But here, now, I find somethin' more terrifyin' than death, more damnin' than a bewitchin' curse.

"We'll meet again in hell, Captain." All these years since that storm did set me free, I've had nothin' to call mine own, nothin' to look too and know it shall be with me forevermore, nothin' t'all save that which stands before me now. Ambi's tower be all I have, and as these bars won't give and the Hylian turns from me and walks calmly off towards the entrance, the tower's inner chambers all lined with kegs a powder to topple her clear off her bottom, I can feel that last bit o' myself fade inta the sea.

"Bastard, **_no!_**" I shout, my voice breakin' with mountin' fear, stepping back, I draw my sword as fast as my undead arm can manage. The man beyond the gates doesn't pause, stridin' away with that solitary light, a man on his way t' death, damned three ways yet still triumphant in th' end.

My sword out, I slash towards the lock which keeps the door shut tight within the grate. Again, and again, brine-crusted steel meets brutal, rusting iron. Again, again, sparks flyin' from both as deep, silver gashes overlap one another across the thick face a' th' lock. I shan't let the tower fall, I shan't let it fall t' th' sea, the sea has taken too much from me already. I lost me home, me honour, me name an' lady t' it, it stole from me th' flesh o'er my very bones, but it shan't have th' tower, anythin' else but that.

My hands shakin' from furry an' fear, I scream in a raw mixture of both emotions, my sword clatterin' against the lock once more before a loud, echoing clang resonates from the two pieces a metal. I feel the shock run up both me arms, lookin' down at the snapped blade in me hands in awe-struck disbelief. Af'er all th' years fightin' with th' sword gifted to me by her hand alone, she chooses _now_ t' fail me…

"No!!" I shout, jammin' th' broken hilt a me sword inta th' lock, hearin' metal bits shatter afore at long-bleedin-last the door swing's open. I all but throw m'self through th' gates, fear I haven't felt in hundreds a years fuelin' me as no anger can, me hat blown clear off me pale skull as I drop me useless blade t' th' ground.

Wind whistles through the gaps a me bones as I run 'cross the silent courtyard just a'fore th' tower's entrance. Th' glow a th' single torch I be followin' tauntin' me with i's golden light, playin' 'cross the smooth black stone a pillars 'n unkempt statues a nobles, nameless now through time.

"**_Boy!_**" My voice echoes out 'cross the black walls surroundin' us, th' white stone doorway inta' Ambi's tower standin' a'fore me, doors themselves flung open, an showin' him ta' me as he stands there wit' that damned flame in hand. Th' strong, even look in his eyes goads me, an I flex my bone fingers once, takin' as soft a step forwards as I dare. Mine cursed eyes peel away th' shadows be'ind 'im, an I can see the mountain a powder kegs linein' th' walls a the chambers at 'is back, similar I'd assume, t' all those beyond as well.

"Yer fire may hurt me, boy, but it canna kill me." I call darkly, th' both a' us watchin' one another carefully, that flame not swayin' t'all. "'haps I shan't kill ye af'erall… put down the torch an we'll see…"

"I cannot kill you…" He says carefully, wettin' 'is lips wit' 'is tongue, afore steppin' back suddenly, completely within th' tower now as I feel a tight sensation build up in me chest… apprehension?

"But perhaps the tower can." No, he-

"NO!"

Mine eyes can hardly follow 'im, the flame vanishin' with 'im from sight as I haven't th' time t' stumble forwards in a desperate run. So swiftly the darkness a th' tower is shorn away though. Light, hot, blindin' white, it swells like dragon's breath within' confines a' stone an mortar, afore firin' out for any means a escape. Stones w'istle with 'eat as ancient mortar powders an 'is blasted off, undoin' ancient bonds as white flames come soarin' out t'wards me.

I scream in surprise as so swiftly m' clothin' be set t' flames. Blinded now by light an' 'eat, I can 'ear an feel the tower screamin', powder an bombs blastin' up through each polished level, sunderin' stone from stone. Pain fires up me bones with a force I canna explain, an I can feel me own form shatterin' as though I were th' tower m'self. Crimson light, I canna see it, but know it t' be lacin' up th' tower's height, forcin' blocks a black stone t' fall t' sea an' land encased in angry flames. 'igher an' 'igher that light goes, all th' way t' th' aerie.

Blood, I can smell blood, th' flames which shot out t'wards me shoulda faded as swiftly as they did come, but about me now I can only feel the burning fingers diggin' inta me like rabid dogs. As though I be burnin' from th' inside like th' tower, but why blood?

Me skeletal hands come up o'er me face as I scream wit' the 'orrible pain a th' fires, an I feel a flash a fear grip me so solid I canna think past it. I feel. Not just pain, I feel, mine eyes open t'flames now red with blood spilt from flesh o'er mine old bones. Sticky, hot, warm… mine. I'm bleedin', but only th' livin' can bleed…

Tis as though the world goes silent, an I know I be frightened now. Th' world na' makin a spot o sense ta me as these angry, otherworldly flames continue t' dance and burn 'bout me.

All at once the fire be gone from me, an I hear the sick squelch a burnt an bloody flesh meetin' cinder-covered stone. For a moment I am blinded, robbed of the strength t' scream anymore from th' pain runnin' through me. But I not be blind now, eyes a flesh just canna see through th' night.

T'was th' tower, sure as sure. Built t' guide a wayward soul home, standin' just ta keep me in port, ta' ne'er give up on my always comin' back. T'was to be a testament to mine repentance, t' grant me death when I did earn it a'fore the gods an' th' laws. But here be I now, bleedin' with flesh a mine own, kneelin' afore a topplin' beast a stone, th' black magic b'twixt those blocks releasin' me, lettin' a cursed man go long a'fore I'd think my rest was earned...

I can see 'em now… Eyes a green an hair a fire both, hundreds a years 'tween her death 'an 'is birth, but both a them th' only family I'd ever have dared to claim as mine own. Ghosts they be, or just fevered visions of a man dyin' at long bleedin' last. His eyes be facin' out t'see, th' long navy cloak a 'is adventurin' days tied up 'bout 'is chin, 'im lookin' as though he be waitin' for somethin' ta come. An 'er, she be standin' afore me wit' crimson 'air bound back in a thick braid, silver circlet 'cross her brow as t'was first time I set eyes 'pon 'er. Full gowns of a queen swirlin' 'bout 'er ankles as she walks, dainty hand 'eld out ta me, waitin' for a kiss upon 'er silver ring…

"Aye… Miriam…" So silent th' world be now, no more screamin', no boomin' blasts a powder in th' distance, battle-cries or pirate caws. T'isn't right ta' touch a lady's 'and wit' mine own so burnt an bloody, but when a queen 'old's 'er 'and out t' ya, there's nothin' else ya' can do…

"My… fair lady… I'm home…"

* * *

**The captain's suddenly become very difficult to write, and I think that's kinda easy to see in this chapter. But either way, he's likely finished for this story- and deffinatly in the future! Lo and Behold, when I finished this chapter I learn that he has one hand a hook, when for this entire story both hands have been in perfect working condition. Well, forget cannon this time, he can have a hook if I ever re-write this later. Not now.**

**Aaarg... I have two really important event decisions to make, and I haven't... made them. They don't change the plot, but drastically alter the flow of the story... I swear I'm gonna end up just flipping a couple of coins.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Wow, if you go back and read the first few chapters, it seems as though this story's totally spiraled out of control… Even according to my old notes from last Summer, everything's so much more complicated! My simple love-story's turned into a not-so-romantic tale of lies and deceit! Cool! **

**Hans Zimmer. **

**Enjoy.**

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* * *

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 24

Cold, I'm so cold, darkness all around me, pain gripping my chest with growing aches and pains. I can hardly move, my limbs feeling as lead. I'm so afraid, but I couldn't even scre-

"Tie up those boats and strike the torches!"

I can hear it, like thunder across a blackened sky; I can hear the sounds of fear and war around me. My aching limbs tremble as a deep rumbling pulsates through the sharp, rocky ground beneath me. Something… terrible… is happening…

"Wake **up!**" Release.

"Easy, girl, easy." I find myself so suddenly snapped back into reality, the darkness still around me even as the sour smell of sea water fills my nose, salty brine turning the inside of my mouth to paper. Cold and hot at the same time, I can feel sharp stones beneath my arms cut into me as I roll onto my side, coughing violently until copper seeps into my mouth from my raw throat. I feel as though I swallowed the entire ocean, or half of it at least.

But I'm alive. I'm on land, I'm alive. Despite the darkness around me, there are flashes of light every so often, so I know it to be the black of night, the air moving as it can't within a cramped cell. The air is sour with the smell of salt, but there are no traces of rank or rancid mildews. With my face turned down towards the sharp, mulusk-coated stones under my sliced arms, I feel my eyes begin to burn, my coughs turning to sobs. A hand rests on my shoulder, rough with the bulk of heavy gloves as I hear splashing and shouting all around me. The cage is gone…

"Someone bring me some water!" By the gods, I'm _alive_.

That hand on my shoulder snakes about my shoulders, pulling me over onto my back. I can hardly find the strength to hold my own head up, the knee of whomever's holding me helping keep my back straight, his arm around the back of my neck before I feel the rough lip of a waterskin being pressed to my lips. But, water b-

"Drink it, Oracle, drink." The voice is familiar to me, but I don't recognize it exactly, all I know is that it is water that's seared my throat so badly, water that I've never had a choice but to drink. To poison myself with it, or die in the glaring sun. I bring my hands up over my face, twisting against the person's hold and trying to get away. I- _no!_

"Jasper, hold her arms." Cold, clammy hands come down over my wrists, pinning my arms to my side before I feel my strength give out. Whoever's holding me tries again to make me drink, using his fingers to pry my jaw open at least enough to work the rough material past my teeth. He swiftly realizes that mistake with a curse which makes me blink in surprise, a bark of laughter coming from the other man holding me as the first one grunts past the pain of my biting down on his hand.

"That's enough of that," He grunts tightly, and I don't have the strength to repeat the action as he tries once more to force the water down my throat, this time succeeding. I nearly spit up the first swallow of water, fear clutching my insides as I can only brace myself against the expected pain.

Almost instantly, I stop trying to struggle against them, no flash of heat or burning oils searing my throat, only cool, pure water. The hands at my wrists fall away as I stop resisting. I bring my hands up and take the skin myself; gulping desperately as though I've never had a drink before in my life.

"Damn it, what a mess," The second man swears, his voice cold and gruff as I feel swamped with exhaustion, pain lacing up my arms and down the backs of my ankles where the sharp stones beneath me bit and cut when I struggled. My ribs ache as though they've cracked, making it difficult to breathe too deeply. I can't imagine I look like much at the moment, half-starved and filthy even before the water touched me…

"Nayru, we have to get out of here." It's so dark down here, even as I feel myself beginning to calm down, exhaustion tugging down on my eyes and bidding me fall into a dreamless sleep, I can't make out the face of the man holding me. His hair keeps dripping cold sea water onto my face, but with the unsteady light of far off torches, I can't even make out his profile. It's odd though, that he knows my name…

"She's half-drowned and dead, Swordsman, give her a mome-"

"We don't **have **a moment, Jasper, any minute now those men-"

"_The tower!!_"

The arguing between the two men over me cuts off abruptly at the call. The rumbling I felt within the earth before returning to myself hammers into me again, causing the wharf to groan and sway over our heads. The moon is already rising, but to slowly for me to make out only the faintest, ghostly outline of that which stands atop the sea. Or perhaps, better yet, what doesn't.

From where I lay, I can see beyond the harbor towards where Ambi's bluff rises from the sea, hidden now for the most part by the night. I feel a sick, desperate sensation building in the pit of my stomach, something cold swimming about inside of me. Light, crimson, the colour of blood, laces up the hidden form of what I know to be Ambi's tower. It stands so far away in the distance that it looks almost as though the light outlines each stone of the lighthouse, shining with a terrible anger before I feel my vision close in around me, blocking out any and all else as I watch that crimson beacon.

Watch it topple, and crash into the black sea.

"The Captain's dead." My eyes are burning, but I can't bare to blink or look away from the fiery pillar as it bends and falls, the sounds of explosions echoing from across the harbor. Soon, I know, smoke will begin to fill the city, hanging like a thick smog to choke it.

"How can you tell?" It's so strange, the after image of the tower hangs in my eyes, and yet as I feel my heart chipping away my body feels… better. The pain in my arms begins to fade, the thousands of aches and pains in my back and legs begin to sooth themselves.

"He wouldn't let himself live without her." My exhaustion almost feels to be burning away, soft warmth wrapping itself about my throat like a silk scarf.

"You'll find your people in the woods far west of here. Thank you, friend." I hardly hear him make his goodbyes to the fairy, the sounds of the tower crumbling still echoing strongly in my ears. I'm sitting up on my own now, blankly watching the small orb of light dance about his half-gloved fingers before drifting away solemnly.

"That fairy could've saved your life."

"Saving myself won't do any good if she dies… Those soldiers will be here any minute now, go, make sure everything's ready for them." Since all they've done is point out flaws in whatever the other one says this whole time, I almost expect a sharp rebuttal again. Instead, I hear the splashing of water before the other man vanishes, I think he was a Zora actually; I didn't even look to see him, but only a Zora would take to the water. But it's so hard to think right now, my thoughts are still scattered as I watch the black night as though the tower will suddenly climb back out of the waves.

"Nayru," The moon's light is more full now, panes of silver breaking across the water, casting long, smooth shadows across the ground and walls of the harbor. I can see him now, blond hair plastered to his head by sea water, blue eyes hollowed out by what his life has shown him, fresh pink scars stretching faintly across his cheeks. It's the sword though, those majestic blue wings over his left shoulder. I needn't even reach for his hand to be sure.

He was a boy when I first met him, though his eyes are still the same as they were years ago. But he hasn't aged like the others, he isn't bent with the years, isn't built like a man past his prime. He is the boy I met years ago, as he should be in the time I long only too return to…

"Nayru, take us home…" He kneels down next to me, and I watch numbly as he takes one of my hands up in his, and despite the evenness of his voice, the strength with which he holds on betrays his nerves. He mentioned men arriving; is there a battle to take place, here, now? When the sea hasn't even calmed with the falling of an ancient tower, blood is to turn it red with anger. Does he see me as his only doorway home?

I can't do it. I feel tears spilling down my cheeks at the thought, but they change nothing. I can't do it. I cannot sing for the harp, I cannot just will us both through time. That warmth about my throat has faded since the fairy left, and no matter what she may have tried, I cannot sing again so soon. The pain of it would-

He leaves my hand clasped in his left, using his right to guide my other hand up and placing it over the back of the one still holding onto me. I can sense his anxiety, know his ears to be tuned distinctly for the sound of enclosing feet and battle cries, but… I feel something else too. I feel warmth that a soaking man sitting in armor under a dock should not be able to impress upon me.

I drop my eyes from him, feeling my shoulders hitch as sobs wrack my body. I'm terrified, the helplessness of the cage still fresh in my mind as the tower was as one screaming as it fell into the sea and died. I could feel the black magic within it spiraling out of control, its curse shattering and adding that livid red to the flames. My world is coming apart at the seams as I thought it never could again, and I don't know what to—

"For your Prince, and my Queen..." I can see it, a golden glow shining softly from under my fingers, its origin the power nestled in his left hand. The warmth of it is… comforting… As though it could ease my fear…

"Take us home."

Courage, that is Link's gift. He can be killed as easily as any other man, but his courage keeps him moving. Those who freeze in the face of their own demise succumb to them, but he's always been a young boy who simply knuckles down and lets what comes to pass be what it wills. His fear has never barred him from anything, even when it meant enduring some untold pain. Even as a boy all alone in a land he didn't know for months as everything unraveled around him, his fear never held him back… It's strange the way one can see and old friend in an entirely new light, especially when that light comes from the hands of the gods themselves…

Somehow, I'm still afraid despite the warm creeping up my arms, tears still flowing coldly down my cheeks, leaving trails of salt across the thick grime of the harbor waters. I'm frightened, and my body aches and pains me, but…

I let my eyes come up and see those hollow shadows sitting in his gaze, the hope he's trying to force away when he looks at me, trying not to put more pressure on me than circumstance already demands. Strangely though, my eyes slip past him, to something… hazy… just beyond him… perhaps it's just the moonlight but it… What looks like smoke and silver moonlight… changes…

As children, Ralph and I explored the more decrepit acres of the Lynna graveyard although he truly didn't want to go. The clearest memory I have of those late night adventures was the one time we came across something even I couldn't have expected. The moonlight reflecting off a half-buried tomb-stone… twisted… around itself, until we could almost see an old man sitting there, the various, ghostly cords of a net weaving through his fingers before the sight of him vanished again. We had to unearth the lower half of the stone to find the name _'Cheval'_, I don't think either of us ever forgot that name afterwards.

And now, here, I can see it happening again, but it isn't that old man, instead, it's someone very different… I can feel my eyes widening as his face takes shape, all the lines blurred but still present to outline his eyes and the grudging curve of his lips. His entire form from the deep red of his hair to the piercing green of his eyes, is washed out and lacking distinct colour as he hovers there in the moonlight. I can't pry my gaze away from his, watching stunned as he gives a slight, but approving nod to me, before he closes his eyes and… is gone…

"-ru. Nayru, are you alright?" I come back to myself with a jolt, staring at Link in confusion as his eyes hold a shade of confusion. The light from his hand is gone now, and I hadn't noticed that he let mine go, my hands both resting limply in my lap. I let my eyes fall to them and stare at my wrists blankly, moving so that the moonlight can shine across the sore, blistered skin along my arms, white marks crossing my skin where the fairy magic healed over the shallow cuts from the cage bars and the stones beneath me.

"What did you say?" He asks again, and I look to the boy-hero I knew years ago, didn't known I'd spoken, but I don't seem to have much focus at the moment. I simply repeat the last words which ran through my head.

"I won't let him die." My voice is painfully hoarse, but can be heard, I'm almost shocked to hear myself speak again after so long trapped by silence. But I can't dwell on that just now, not when I'm free, and finally have the means of correcting all that I can. Link simply nods, not needing an explanation as he stands and extends his hand to me, offering to help me to stand.

"We're going then?" He asks, and I brace myself before accepting his help and swaying unsteadily on my feet. I lost my sandals days ago, and yet feel no shame at this point as he ends up placing one arm under my knees and lifting me so I don't cut up my feet on the sharp stones underfoot.

"Not until I have my harp… The old man…" He merely nods in understanding.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually he finds a way to bring me up from the water's edge, and I follow him closely past ill-armored men as he sets me down on my feet. The stone feels cold beneath me, but solid, and without sharp edges.

"Is everything secure?"

Looking about me as he strides forwards to speak with a stocky man, there are tens of ships of all sizes sitting in the harbor. Some of them having even moved in close enough to dock. All around me men in all sorts of get-ups from Hylain robes to filthy rags stand waiting, any manner of item turned into a piece of armor or weaponry. A man with a bejeweled sword stands watch, a piece of beaten leather over his torso as a young man with a torch comes by clanking in chainmail with a wooden club over his shoulder. The moon tells me that they haven't been here long at all, but it seems like hours…

"Y'sir, the harbor's ours." I look to the man in Hylian armor as he speaks, a torch in his hand and bow over his shoulder. A long slash across his face makes the skin pucker together in a gruesome way. He looks pleased with what they've already accomplished without a fight, but something about the way he looks to the Hero seems… strange… As though he keeps staring at his ears instead of his eyes. I suddenly feel very aware of myself, filthy and in tattered cloths, my own ears quite visible under the tangled mess of my hair.

"Find me a horse." The scarred man, likely a pirate from the looks of him, gives link a startled look as he places the order. Needless to say, I blink myself at how quick he is to take command. It's so unlike the boy I used to know.

"What? Are ye' runnin' away now?" The man questions, and I note how rigid Link's shoulders become as the man speaks so… loudly.

"I'm going into the city." He answers shortly, meeting the smaller man's critical gaze firmly as they stare one another down. Somehow, the air seems suddenly thick with tension, as though power is shifting drastically, and not in our favor.

"Well, I say yer' runnin'." The several other men scattered across the dock, they all seem to go very silent at his words. Watching, waiting, I hesitantly begin to walk forwards, fully aware of a number of those gazes falling to me as well. I can't even tell what's going to happen, and without my harp this is not a comforting situation.

"Say what you will." Turning, Link abruptly takes my elbow and begins to lead me away. I almost open my mouth to ask him what's going on; when I suddenly note a sheer sheen of sweat glittering across his brow, and how tight his face looks. He doesn't look afraid per-say, but wary, and expecting something like-

"Hylian scum!" –that.

"Run!" He pulls me forwards as he shouts at me at the same time, and I stumble and nearly end up falling to the ground if not for his hand keeping me upright. Yanking hard to make sure I don't trip again, I don't know what to think until something whips past my ear, and I feel a flash of adrenaline. I don't know where I find the strength, but I do, ignoring the small stones that bite into my bare feet as I run as fast as I can.

"Don't stop, keep- _gah!_ " The hand on my arm abruptly lets go, and I scrape the bottoms of my feet to stop as I look over my shoulder to see him on the ground, an arrow protruding from his shoulder.

"Link?!"

"I said **go!**" Even with the sharp contrast of the dark shadows and pale moonlight, I can see his face to be white with pain as he braces himself on his left arm and pushes himself back up to his feet. The dark red staining the grey of his tunic isn't flowing as heavily as I might've thought it would, but as I watch I can still see it beginning to soak down his back.

Part of me wants to just stay where I am, or go and help him, but a stronger, shameless part of me does what he says. I can feel my fear surging back up again like sour bile, and I duck into the nearest alley-way. Instead of continuing to run however, I can't bare the thought of leaving him behind completely, kneeling behind a pile of barrels and crates shoved up against a wall. Oh, I'm such a coward, but I just don't know what else to do…

"Come no closer," I stifle a cry of sympathy as he reaches his injured arm around, unhooking his bow and not stopping as it clips the end of the arrow that hit him. I sit here in silent shock watching him as despite the pain he must be feeling he knocks an arrow of his own and hold the bow drawn and ready before him. I can see his hands shaking from the strain at first, but then it seems to… fade..?

"Prince'll not take kindly to us lettin' a turn-coat get away!" I can see it again, that light from before. Only it's so much fainter now, different from the comforting glow it was for me. I can almost see it curling up the shaft of the arrow held between his fingers, the fletching of the one stained with his blood is still quivering though, showing me how much he's still shaking despite the relic in his hand.

"The Prince knows what I'm doing and where I'm going. We didn't shout **_every_** detail." Who is this prince they're talking about? Ralph had no cousins… who would try and call themselves a prince?

I would ponder this further, but suddenly I can hear something far more worrying. Only a handful of men gave chase to us from the harbor, but now I can hear more, and they're coming from inland. I can hear men, many men, marching out of sync with one another, but drawing together. The men at the docks kept mentioning a battle starting, soldiers coming to fight them. I can swear now that I can nearly see the red of torches beginning to flicker on the cobbles, has all this shouting drawn them straight here?

"Go back to the harbor." Link says tersely, and I can't see the men who followed us anymore, each of them slowly walking backwards as the red light at his back grows stronger. I can hear the rattling of horses bridles, the stomping of booted feet and the clanking of armor. "Go back, and warn the others."

"That's an order!" Fire, I can see it, watch as red fingers swirl around the metal point of his arrowhead as he turns smoothly with one foot grounded, pivoting around completely and pointing his shot towards the force I can sense gathering up the road from us. I dare not move from where I am, watching his face as his eyes seem violet in the firelight.

The snap of his bowstring is lost in the deep roar of the flames which surge from his hand and climb up and around the bow. The arrow itself flashes from it's place at his fingertips, pulling the flames with it as they spread like wings beyond my sight around the corner, and I hear men shriek in surprise before a booming voice orders the charge.

I almost expect him to stand there like a mythic hero and fight them all head-on, somehow confused as this man who holds the power of the gods ducks to the side towards the alley where I sit here hidden and safe from danger. I know the men who surge past are not demons wrapped in hellfire, but after all that has happened to me since I was dragged from my cell this morning, my mind cannot just see them as men drafted into uniforms and forced to fight a midnight battle. All I see as they rush forwards and past this tiny little side-street are lion banners, crimson tunics, burnished silver and angry torches. I see black demons tossed from Din's hells wreaking havoc like a massive inferno…

"Stay down!" Link orders harshly as he kneels next to the barrels, panting with pain as I make to stand and help him. At his words, I find myself surprised to hear him speak like that, but at the same time I cannot move to disobey. For a moment I'm almost frightened of him, this knight who's taken the place of the boy-hero I once knew in Lynna woods. His left hand snaps up as his bow clatters to the ground, drawing the silver blade over his shoulder with a fierce conviction in his eyes.

Blood splatters across his face and the ground a moment later, not all the men in the charge willing to simply rush past us as three of them dart into the alley. The first one strikes out with a sword, only to have the silver length of the Master Sword come up to deflect it widely. Link pushes forwards boldly as I watch in horror as the winged-guard of the legendary blade slams into the lion soldier's face, blood fountaining from the wound before he drops to the ground. As a twirling mace is tangled in the Master Sword, and its point is buried into his opponent's throat, I find the need to correct myself.

I **_am_** afraid of him…

As an Oracle, I'm forbidden to shed the blood of another living being. I cannot even hunt, although preparing meat and eating it is of no consequence to me. Somehow, although I've always known that his triumphs were those washed with blood, it always seemed so clean when thinking about him; this hero who is supposed to be so pure, so righteous, so noble and brave. Never, in all the ages I have visited, has the _'Hero dressed all in Green'_ been labeled anything dirty, anything cruel or dark or evil. Words such as killer and murderer have never touched him in legend. Is it because, this time, he's wearing white?

"Are you alright?" How ironic. "Lets go…"

The man who's saved me once before and is again, doesn't seem to be all the world really thinks he is. I almost cannot bare the sight of his bloodied hands, his right one shaking from the pain of that arrow as he holds it out to me, a gash on his forehead seeping crimson down the side of his head, three corpses at his feet. I don't know how Farore's Blade can stand to be held in his vile grasp, he doesn't even realize how many lives he's affected by ending those three…

As I begin to walk with him, moving forwards now at a steady walk as my mind is to distracted now to worry about exhaustion, I can only wonder…

Can hands as bloody as his, ever truly be clean?

_

* * *

_

"And Mistress Bianca insists on having these lovely little white roses woven through the Princess's hair, and woven into a number of darling bracelets. Why, she even suggested a ring of them! How divine!"

"Hmm, blue roses would be so much better though…"

"Oh, but of course! They'd bring out her Majesty's eyes so beautifully…"

"And that bit of red in her hair as well… What do you think of this cream for the bodice?"

Oh, but for how many years have I imagined this day? And all the days like it? Always when the thought came to mind I would smile longingly and feel light at heart about all the planning that would go into the wedding of that twittering little girl. I would always brace myself for the stress it would surly bring, but with the sweet reward of eventually watching her float into the arms of her husband come the time.

But now? Now? By _Din's Wrath_ it's more a horror than I'd ever thought in all those dreamy years. All these long summer days spent cooped up with twittering noble girls all hot and bothered by every young male with a spot of wealth. I haven't had a strong, decent conversation with anyone in weeks!

And ay the gods, Melodia, your little girl is an absolute brat! Sulking, simpering, throwing tantrums as though she were a toddler again to be taken over my knee! Hardly eating at dinner, shirking off even the lightest of company, ghosting through the halls like a specter and driving me up the highest walls of the palace!

And now _this!!_

"The only Blue Rose vine is her Majesty's, and it did not flower this year regrettably." Aye, again, no blooms. Although honestly I cannot say it surprises me anymore than last year or the year before that…

"Oh, begging your pardon, Mistress Impa, but isn't it a bush?" I give the auburn-haired floozy a very level look. She acts like a complete lack-wit half the time and yet in the company of anything remotely male she can outsmart any of them. I would be able to like her quite a bit if she didn't hold the entire female half of the court in contempt!

"No, Lady Fawna." I drawl, looking up from the stacks of thick, gossamer parchment before me as I'm using some of the King's finest inks in writing out the invitations. "It is a vine. I assure you." It takes a great many patience for me to keep from grinding my teeth in frustration with her.

"I thought roses grew on bushes…" _By Farore's Howling Winds_, woman, I know you're smarter than a clod of earth!

"Mistress Impa?" I all but slam my quill down on the tabletop, my shoulders rigid as I place my hands flat on the writing surface and push myself to my feet. I do my best to ignore the Lady Fawna and one of her various twittering friends -who **_is_** just a blank card with a pretty face- as they continue chittering about the stitches to use on Zelda's wedding gown.

"Yes, what is it?" I ask, turning towards the door and looking curiously at the rumpled man standing there timidly, thick gloves up to his elbows and cupped over something in his hands. His pants are loose and darkly stained along the knees with dirt, I don't know his name, but recognize him as one of the palace gardeners.

"I'm sorry t' bother you, Mistress, but could I have a moment of your time?" He asks politely, glancing to the two noble women sharing the salon with me. He gives a shy nod and bow to them as they abruptly silence their babbling and stare at him, breaking into giggles a moment more before turning their attention right back to their patterns.

Crossing towards the door, I shoo him out of my way before stepping out into the hall with him, shutting the dark wood behind us before I rest one hand on my hip to look at him. He seems anxious and perhaps a bit worried, but considering his position I haven't the faintest idea what's the matter with him.

"I was going to tell Her Majesty first, but she seemed to be in a frightful mood this morning when she came by her gardens and saw me in there attending to the weeds. Thought you'd best have a look at it instead." I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the mention of Zelda's temper, it's so unlike her to let her childishness disturb other members of the household, but by this point I'm all but fed up with her behavior, acting like a love-sick child when she wasn't in any sort of relationship to begin with.

"Well, what do you have to tell me, or show me, as may be the case?" I ask bluntly, fiddling with the hem of my brown tunic, tapping the toes of one booted foot against the stone floor thoughtfully.

"This, Mistress." Offering his cupped hands to me, the light from a nearby window allows me to see what it is he's holding so delicately. Despite myself and my feelings towards that rowdy, spoiled girl, I can't help my own reaction at the sight of it.

"Oh… Nayru, no…" I sigh, feeling my heart go out to the poor dear as I hold my hand out and he drops the tiny, bruised rose bud into my palm. One side of it is blackened and peeling, showing it to be dead on the inside, oh but how close it came to flowering… The dark velvet green leaves attached to it are all I need to know that this did indeed come from the former Queen's rose bush.

"There are several of them all along the vine, up under the leaves and hidden from sight. But they're all like this, Mistress, all dead. This one here, see how the stem's all bent an' broken? I snipped it off this morning when I found it, 'fraid some of that damage where it's opened up is from me, wanted to make completely sure and, well…" I nod sadly to him, pinching the bud between my fingers as he must have done earlier, and looking inside to see only dead brown- although I have to hold it right in the light of the window in order to see something so detailed.

"You were right not to go to the Princess with this." I say quietly, "She has enough before her already without this added worry." As I close my hand around the bud and pocket it, I notice the gardener's brown eyes following me closely, and I pause before looking to him again, his thick, bushy mustache twitching slightly in thought before he speaks again.

"Pardon my saying so, Mistress, but this marriage business seems well…" He starts, before letting his words trail off, one gloved hand coming up and scratching at his matted brown hair nervously. I can feel my brows climbing curiously as I watch him, wanting to know what he has to say.

"All due respect unto the Prince of course, but there's been talk amongst those of us on the lower levels. I guess it must be some noble thing or another, but in recent days y'know, the whole affair seems strange." I cross my arms at this, now just what is he trying to say, hmm?

"You know, Mistress. A man to be wed doesn't sit in a dark room with his head in his hands. A woman the summer a'fore her wedding doesn't spend afternoons alone with her head on her knees…"

"Excuse me, Master Gardener, but I haven't heard a word of this _'talk'_." I reply tartly, only to receive a startled look from him.

"Pardon me, Mistress, but you haven't been down to the servant's wing in a long while either."

* * *

**Link had a part in this chapter, but it wasn't coming out well so I turned it all into Nayru. Oh well. **

**It was a near thing that I didn't kill Link for dramatic effect. I seriously should of and then just had Nayru continue on alone. Would've made a pretty good story, but without the same sort of compatibility I'm looking for in relation to my other stories. **


	25. Chapter 25

**Ah, I finally figured out what this story's been missing. I never included Dark Link. Oh well, he won't be making an appearance in this story, but eventually I'm going to build some stuff up to Wind Waker, we'll see if he can get a bit of role in then, sound good? Absolutely NO ROOM in here for Dark Link or Ganondorf xD**

**I WANT A WII. I WANT BRAWL. I CAN'T HAVE A WII OR BRAWL. I'M GOING TO GO CRY NOW.**

**Enjoy the chapter.**

**

* * *

**

**Matters of the State**

Chapter 25

My curiosity has been sparked.

"Well then, how much of all this is being related back from what's overheard?"

"Actually, Mistress, most of the maids and such keep saying their Ladies are ecstatic about the wedding, most of the upper folk seem pleased with it." I sigh as I walk down the lower halls with Master Tamrin, the Gardener who blessedly gave me leave from the salon many floors up with the Ladies Fawna and Edith. He's right actually; I haven't been down to the servants wing in a number of weeks now, perhaps that explains the lack of civil conversation...

"You cannot please everyone, but if the nobility are content then where are all these _'feelings'_ you mentioned coming from?"

"Those of us down here, Mistress." I cannot believe this...

"Master Tamrin," I say, pausing and giving a sigh as I shake my head, "I am a friend of those who make the castle run, or at least I have always tried to be, but this is not truly a matter which can be decided by rumors. This is the lives of two very young, very powerful people."

"A matter of the state then, Mistress?" He asks quietly, and I feel myself frown as, I think I'm beginning to feel a bit... hesitant... about all of this.

"Yes, Master Tamrin, a matter of the state..."

* * *

I can hear the sounds of the cannons firing in the harbor now, like distant thunder rumbling in the wake of a massive storm. The streets which were once empty are now filling with frantic, unarmed people, those who came down from the bluff after the destruction of the tower and now find themselves under attack from the sea. 

For all that I chose to stave off wearing any red from the ship, most of those who come rushing down the lanes we take stumble in their paths and dart away at the sight of me. I suppose I can't blame them though, armed as I am with warm blood running down the side of my face and back.

As a small condolence, some streets back Nayru finally pulled me aside as we were walking, and briskly removed the arrow from my back with little warning and only a few terse words. She tore a strip from my tunic and did her best to form a make-shift bandage for the wound afterwards, but I can still swear she seems mad at me for some reason. **_Me._**

That thought's enough to aggravate more than I already am by what's going on around me now, the chaos in the city streets as already I can see signs of looting being carried out. Somehow, I knew this sort of madness would break out once the order was so boldly challenged by the ships, but expecting something and wallowing in it are two entirely different things.

Fires are being struck around the city, likely from the looters and the frightened. There's likely also chaos brewing from the east and Lynna woods. The resistors there were told we were coming through Zora messengers, and I don't doubt that they're just as rowdy as everyone else right now.

"Does your head hurt?" My memory of Lynna city is vague, and thirty years have altered what routes I knew. I've been letting Nayru lead us for some time now, only she knows where the Harp of Ages lies, although it's a mystery to me why she doesn't just summon it into her arms. In the glowing red light around us and with the moon still climbing overhead, I can feel her eyes fixated on me menacingly, and I feel myself bristle at the idea.

"No, I'm fine." I answer shortly, swiping the back of one hand across my forehead to wipe away the slowed flow from my brow. In truth, my head is pounding menacingly, but with her looking to me that way, and the pain of her hands prying the arrow head still fresh in my mind, I'd rather not seek out her aide again so soon.

It feels as though we travel the streets for hours, although the moon is only just slightly higher when we reach our destination than it was when I last looked to its pale face. This building is certainly not one I recognize, an entire manor built in the heart of the city only a few minutes ride towards the Maku Tree's Sanctuary. For a moment, I remember that I've heard nothing at all about Labrynna's guardian since I arrived, but now isn't truly the time to be pondering the doings of the mighty tree.

"The gates, they're open…" A trap? A high brick wall is what we face now, broken only by an iron wrought gate only just to small to require a guard house. As we approach, there are no people along this road, although in the distance I can hear voices, few screams even. I haven't the time to play the hero tonight however, and constantly remind myself of that as we come towards the opening and find that the mighty bars are indeed parted.

"Did he run?" She asks; her voice as rough as it has been since she first began speaking back in the harbor. I can feel her eyes watching me closely as I ease the Master Sword back out of its sheath, noting the lit torches within the walls, the household items strewn about the ground. Bits of rope, buckets, a chest lies on its side spilling it's contents near one of the outer buildings, in this light it's difficult to see much else.

"The servants might have, but he wouldn't." I answer carefully, my eyes peering through the bars I'm hesitant to touch, the shadows to dark for my liking, I can't see if anything is be hidden within them. No, of what little I know of the smirking lord from Hyrule Castle, he wouldn't surrender his stronghold, not ever. At this point though, all I can really do is pray he holds true to that nature, with the world what it is in this age, I can't say where he might go if he did indeed run…

Reaching out with my right hand, I push one of the doors open smoothly, wincing as it rattles and squeals in protest; a display likely unheard during the full activity of the day. The sword ready in my grasp, I keep my eyes moving about as I step into the courtyard, signaling for Nayru to wait a moment before following.

My caution is well-rewarded, a sharp hissing sound cutting through the air to my right, and making me keenly aware of my lack of defense as I have no shield with which to deflect anything I can't see. Pivoting on my left foot to face the direction of the sound, my eye dart to the ground as a series of soft taps reaches my ears. In the wretched light of the moon and the flickering red torches, I can only barely make out the long, slim lengths of several needles buried into the dirt of the manor's courtyard.

"That blade…" The voice drifts out of the shadows under the stables across the courtyard, and I can hear the soft, even sound of footsteps drawing near from that position. My right arm may hurt, but since I'm no longer restricted by my shield I bring both hands onto the Master Sword's hilt. The blade is fashioned so that it may be wielded with either one hand or two, although I've always known the latter method to be far more dangerous in practice.

"That is the Holy Blade." I can see him now, the man speaking to me. The first detail which jumps out at me rests at his throat, a chain around it holding up a glittering golden eye. Strange, nothing else about him is remarkable, a man in his mid-thirties I'd assume, pale hair beginning to thin at the top. I can see nothing of his body though under the fine but modest cut of his tunic and trousers, but I know him to be a servant, and as he takes a few more calculated steps forwards, I almost immediately recognize him as something more than just a man to fetch and carry.

I can practically feel the air charging around him, his fingers curling in as I don't need to think hard to convince myself that there are more needles waiting in his grasp. That eye taunts me however, so familiar, but not the same... In a time that never came to pass, that image haunted me then as well, always blazoned across the front of someone I was never completely sure I could trust until the end. But even then, it was different... it was sad, not like this one.

"The Blade stolen by the Hero who fled the Sacred Realm and never did then return. And now it finds itself in the hands of an infidel..."

"The Sacred Realm is the world beyond the Door of Time." I correct shrewdly, holding my sword up in a threatening stance, "And I ran from nothing. Now move, we have no qualms with you." Somehow, I knew what sort of answer to expect, but I feel my jaw tighten reflexively as I watch him anyways.

"True Sheikah do not allow threats near their Masters." I swear lividly as he wasn't holding needles to throw at me, a small grey orb falling from his fingers and enveloping him in white smoke. Rushing forwards, I know that the tactic holds more than a bit of magic to allow for a perfect escape if used properly, and expect nothing as I swipe the Master Sword through the cloud and cut through nothing. Turning sharply, I bring the blade up in a block with my hands over my head and the sword's edge hanging diagonally across me, hearing the sharp strikes of metal needles ricocheting off the sword and pegging themselves into my armor, blessedly not carrying enough force to go through leather and mail. But needles and smoke aren't all Sheikah bring to a fight.

Years ago, before the rebellions which shattered the old Monarchy, the Sheikah clan protected the King's family and those of the upper nobility. But when the rebellion broke out, and more importantly, the Princess broke away from her own family, it caused a division between the Shiekah. Those who followed the Princess, such as Impa in my own time, and those of her Kakariko village, became the Tearful Sheikah, adopting a large teardrop under the All-Seeing-Eye, as a symbol of they're betrayal of the old king, and how they carry those sins but go forwards proudly with their choice.

Those who didn't follow the Princess, those who held completely to their vows, well, most rumors say that they were hunted down and destroyed. Entire families died in a dark war that went unheard of for the most part for years after the King I know was crowned. It would be foolhardy to believe that every one of the loyalists died of course, many of them fled into exile, those who didn't learned to keep silent of their heritage or beliefs... It seems one such sect of the Tearless Sheikah found friends in this household...

I didn't see a sheath of any sword about his person, but as I turn once more trying to find him, a flash of steel in the torchlight is all the warning before I abruptly find myself winded, stumbling back with hot pain running along my side. I keep from falling back although it's a near thing, swinging the Master Sword up in a rough counter as the slim, guard-less Sheikah blade comes at me again. It flashes like a beast's tooth in the light, white and menacing, and with more power and speed behind it than a man like him should be able to provide.

"Dare you wield the blade of the fallen Hero, you who draws arms against the kin of the rightful king!" His speed surprises me, but I quickly regain myself, holding the sword with both hands and snapping it up into a proper stance, countering as the aging man lunges at me with a fierce look in his eyes. Somehow, at his words, I feel anger of my own begin to awaken within me.

Ever since I arrived here, all I've heard has been people spitting on my name, when in reality that's all I've ever had. I've had no family since I was to small to remember them, no home that has truly felt right to me. My given name itself is without origin and my loyalties too easily come into conflict with my duty. The titles I've earned have come by me through blood and sweaty tears, they're all I've ever had, and by the gods if I'm named my own son or some damned look-alike once more I'll make the speaker pay!

Since his blade has no guard, I cannot catch him in a power-struggle, and since it's shorter than my sword- only just longer than his lower arm from elbow to wrist- it's risky for me to take the chance of sliding my sword down his to strike his hand without having him lash out and slash me full across the face.

"You're wrong," I say darkly, kicking back unexpectedly for distance as he swipes his blade out at me again with practiced skill. It's awkward, but I switch my sword over to my right hand, ignoring the twinge of pain the added strain brings me, and attack. Darting forwards with my sword held low but the point going forwards, my left hand lashes out and snatches the other man's wrist as he brings his blade around to strike me. I have only a brief chance to see the confusion cross his face at the strength of my grip, before he lurches and the Master sword drives straight through his spine. Sharp pains hit me just to the right of my heart, and I grit my teeth against it as I force the sword deeper until it's winged hilt is pressed up against his tunic.

"There is no King." They all have such closed minds, every instructor or soldier I've ever met, to them the left arm is useless and weak, it's grip simple to break and of no consequence. I can feel the warmth of his blood run slick along my hand, staining my sleeve crimson as his blade drops to the ground. Bringing one booted foot up, I place it against his stomach and kick him away from me, the sword sliding from his ruined insides with a thick squelch as he falls with his last rattling breath. The pain in my chest makes it difficult to breathe, and faintly I reach up to where I can feel a trickle of blood beginning to seep through the front of my own tunic, effectively adding to the crimson covering me.

Three needles are the cause of the added pain through my chest when I try to bleed, thin and perfectly balanced to fly through the air when thrown. Their points are made finely enough that they either passed through the links of my mail, or the man now dead at my feet put enough strength into the blow to force them past the metal. Eitherway, unlike the large wounds left by the barbed heads of arrows, the needles don't pose the same sort of threat. As well, they didn't go in very deeply, causing me pain and a bit of bleeding, but as I take a quick breath and draw them out one after the other, the wounds really aren't that bad. A few inches over however...

"I thought you would tell him you really are the Hero..." I turn and see Nayru standing only a few paced behind me, her eyes black in the harsh light of the torches, her hair matted as she stands in the ragged remains of once were once light summery skirts. It's strange, how much she seems like Zelda as she looks at me that way, not the Zelda I've known within the palace of course, the one who's face appeared behind from behind those Sheikah scarves years ago. The only difference between the two, is that emotion that bridges on hate, the revulsion shining clearly through her eyes as she looks over my bloodied form. I bristle at the stare, growing tired of her disapproval as there's little else I can do when men come at me demanding blood.

"The title's mine." I respond simply, "But I didn't choose it consciously." looking down at the Master sword, it's silvery blade stained with shimmering crimson, thick globs sliding from it's edges as I angle it down, blood washed across the hilt and blue wings, the Triforce glittering ethereally in the torchlight. The thick strains of flesh torn from within the dead man's body mar the blade, and I look back to the Oracle with it still in hand, reaching over the dead Sheikah's body and wiping the holy sword off on his pant leg. I can hear the Oracle walking and rise once I've gotten enough of it off, turning to look at her-

-before she slaps me full across the face.

"Show respect for the dead." She seethes, and I grit my teeth in response as not in any of my memories can I recall her acting so... so demandingly! By the gods, should she not be the slightest bit grateful that I'm even here? I feel a strong twinge in my side where the blade tore through the leather and cloth, likely leaving a large bruise on under my mail. If she notices how I tense to feel the injury, she doesn't show it, simply turning on her heel and striding towards the house itself, the massive stone building with only one visible light shining from a higher window. I keep from grinding my teeth as I don't sheath the sword again, following her grudgingly and waiting a moment before speaking.

"The Sheikah was still here, his Master will be too." Silence greets my comment as we reach the wide double-doors which lead into the manor proper. Only once she rests her hands on the strong oak does she pause and glance at me again over her shoulder.

"That symbol... so that's what it was." She replies softly, and I nod.

"Where will the harp be?" I watch her closely as her eyes go back to the door in front of her, hands still resting on it's solid surface as she's perfectly still. I'm all but ready to repeat the question before she responds.

"Up the stairs, around the corner, in his study." Unless he moved it, of course, but I needn't say that aloud, she's surely thinking much the same thing. But after a moment she only shakes her head, turning her shadowed blue eyes to me with a hard look in them.

"He's to proud for such simple tricks, be careful." The first kind words she's uttered to me since we dragged her from the ocean. I'm almost startled to hear them, but am spared the need to reply as the sound of distant thunder ripples through the air. It's different from the cannon fire from before, deeper, longer, and louder by far, echoing through the city streets as I look towards the harbor, feeling a sick sense of dread as even without clouds high above, I can make out a faint red light far in the distance.

"What was that?" Nayru whispers hoarsely, and I find it hard to swallow for a moment before I turn back to her. I can still feel a numb pain under my throat, centered in my chest where the needles struck but shake off the thought of poison, anything used by Sheikah would have killed me by now.

"One of the ships was hit." I answer, trying to think that it would've been one of the ships already in the harbor, but to cause such an explosion... only vessels sailing to war could have that much powder aboard, and the only ones ready for that were ours... "Come on, let's hurry and get out of here." The numbers are on the side of Jasper and the island men, but it's impossible to ever truly be sure of an outcome.

As the doors part, I can see that the frantic, abandoned look of the courtyard doesn't extend to the inside of the building, which is suspicious to say the least. Nayru brushes past me without another word, quickly crossing the floors of polished blue stone, the tiles clearly just to show wealth as the Labrynnian colour is nowhere else to be found as I step inside. The dark reds and stark lines remind me of the most formal wings of Hyrule castle, of the rooms where you're afraid to sit on the furniture or sneeze into your own sleeve for fear of a maid or noblewoman coming at you for blood.

Following the Oracle, I'm reminded of her waning strength as she climbs the stairs before us quickly at first, but only a short ways up, she slows. If I didn't have more aches and pains than I can count, I'd perhaps be worried over her pushing herself as she has been since the harbor. But frankly, as I climb up after her, I'm more focused on keeping _myself_ going than helping her up the stairs.

On the second floor now, the dark wood floors absorb what little light a the few burning candles shed, the crimson of the walls reminding me only of the colour of freshly spilt blood. After the horrors this day and many before it have brought, the sight of the shade is not well received. Nayru just ghosts along through the golden light, the flames picking out all the garish imperfections of her form…

I can see the pale lines along her arms where she was cut when dragged from the water, how her blue hair is matted, snarled and shorn in places where clumps were likely removed through rough handling. The summer skirts about her hips are in tatters about her ankles where they end, and always with that dark, hollow look in her eyes. I certainly didn't expect her to look lovely when I arrived here, but the degree to which she's fallen by looking into her eyes is startling. Not even the Princess beyond those desert scarves, battered by several years of war and rebellion, looked as terrible as this Oracle does now before me.

I'm so lost in my thoughts as we pass through lit and unlit corridors, that I nearly run right into the rumpled woman as she abruptly stops before a pair of darkly stained doors. We've encountered not a soul since the man in the courtyard, and as her hand abruptly moves out towards the knob, I quickly reach out and snatch her wrist firmly. She tenses at the contact, and I can feel my fingers brushing against the sores along her skin where metal shackles have likely rubbed her raw, but I don't let go as she looks to me darkly. I just shake my head to her, and –letting go- motion with my numb right hand for her to move back.

I don't do anything flashy or obscene; no heroic antics at the doorway which can easily backfire on me and result in some manner of humiliation or pain. I simply put myself between her and the doorway, pleased to see her relent and move off to the side. I have the Master sword, still streaked with blood from earlier, and held in my left hand at the ready.

Ever since that first arrow weeks ago aboard the Fair Lady, my right arm has seen to end to its punishment. Perhaps one of the few fortunate details of fighting with my left hand is that so many tactics revolve around rendering your opponent's _right_ hand unusable. Well, I can assure any master swordsman that at the moment my right arm is not only painfully numb, but as I glance quickly at my icy cold finger tips, they're white which makes me momentarily worry about the amount of blood getting down to my hand. I may not use that one much, but it's still fairly useful for what it _can_ do.

Placing my right hand on the doorknob, I twist it quickly without moving, making sure the latch is clear with as little noise as possible. Gods permitting, as I nudge it open and let go, allowing the door to begin swinging open on its own, the room beyond will be completely-

**SHWOOK **

"..!?" –Pain…

"**_Link!!_**"

* * *

**Yay, Happy Birthday to me! Seventeen on Friday the 13th. (No wii, but that's perfectly understandable I have a Game Cube AND a PS2)**

**(Oh _GOD_ but that I want a Wii!! -cries-)**

**This update was like a birthday present to myself, I was so relieved when this started rolling off onto the pages, and I finally get to answer a few earlier questions. Just to clarify, the significance between the Tearless and Tearful symbols for the Sheikah were outlined in the Ocarina of Time Manga, Part 2 in the Gerudo Desert with Sheik. I don't think you get the same pep-talk in the actual game, but I really liked the idea of the Sheikah having been involved in the rebellions, and that anecdote really fleshed out a lot of my back-story. Because of it I brought in the Rebellion, Zelda's father not being born to royalty, and that interesting other side to Malvo.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Okay, for one reason or another, this site refused to upload anything and SupportFanfiction wasn't loading on any computer I tried. This kinda put a kink in the writing process, but hopefully next chapter it'll co-operate again.**

**I'm going to apologize for last chapter's cliffhanger, but it'd just gotten to that awkward length where to go on would've made it to long, and at the time I could think of nothing shorter to add in. Of course, lo and behold, the morning after an ideal scene came to me, but then it was too late and not worth the trouble. Oh well.**

**Onward and upward, enjoy chapter 26.**

* * *

**Matters of the State**

Chapter 26

The underbelly of Hyrule Castle is rarely visited by the nobility, even Goron visitors have a corridor which is vacant of any servant facilities for all that they also rest under the bulk of the structure. Down here there are no plush rugs of royal red, no beautiful tapestries, not a single vase or ornament in sight, and certainly no windows. The conversation as well is also much rougher, not with so many hidden messages and numerous formalities of those who live on the upper levels. Some who work within the castle have either inherited their positions through their families, generations of cooks and maids, but for the most part they are people from the city who work here but maintain a home elsewhere. And when they grow to old to work, they'll likely return to their families, it makes for a much more comfortable atmosphere provided you don't demand servitude.

"There you are, Mary, come, tell the Mistress Impa what you was tellin' me earlier." The afternoon is likely growing into evening, judging by how the halls have begun to empty rather swiftly of red-clothed servants. A few of the visiting lords have their servants clad in different colours, but since most of them have been here for several weeks now during the prince's stay, those other uniforms have been traded in for Royal red, bits of colour added in the forms of ribbons or pins, one or two wearing pendants at their throats as signs of whom they report to.

I've been allowing myself to be led along by Master Tamrin for a number of hours now, but by this point I'm finding that he says to be rather interesting. I'm as spectacle as any of servant gossip, but the more I hear the less each story seems to deviate from the last. Were I to ask after the Hero of Time of course, I'd hear almost no consistent facts from anyone for all that the boy's lived here for half a decade now!

The woman called to me now, Mary, is one member of the army of red-livered maids with her white apron and bonnet placed over the deep robin red of her skirts. She is a plain woman to look at, answering curiously to her name as she turns briefly over her shoulder to wave back towards the several other women she was walking with down the hall. With a duster hooked into her belt and her apron creased from a day spent running around, her dark eyes are fixated upon me as she walks towards us, bobbing a small curtsey which is a good deal less formal than those parceled out by the servants to the nobles upstairs. I can assume that she only does so now, down here where formalities aren't required simply so I can't claim some manner of disrespect at a later date. It irritates me that some of the upper class take their positions **so** strictly.

"What was it you was wantin', Tamrin?" She asks simply, her city accent thick, and I all but smile since it's been so long since I've been around people who speak simply, without all the second meanings and implied innuendo.

"Tell the Mistress what you was tellin' Josie and us earlier."

"'bout the Prince?"

"Aye."

"Oh, Mistress you'll never believe the nerve of him!" I blink as just like that, the woman's plain face suddenly twists in an angry way, the gardener forgotten completely now as I can hear him chuckling silently at my side. So she's one of_ these_ sorts of gossips...

"So ignorant and rude, that man completely forgets himself some times, it's infuriating, really!" Folding my arms, I tilt my head to the side and look at her curiously, noticing her looking at me expectantly, as though expecting me to immediately agree with her for all that I don't know who she's talking about... However, since silence isn't working, I try myself at a guess...

"The... Prince...?" She seems taken aback at that, the woman blinks once at me with a confused look hiding that momentary anger, and she shakes her head,

"What? No, no, Mistress. The Prince is a kind and sweet man, not a cruel bone in 'is body, none at all. It's Lord Salvin's man, Master Malvo Malvo who doesn't know what his place is anymore." Now, it's my turn to blink, and Mary rolls her eyes at me as though explaining the obvious to a child. I dislike that.

"Normally Malvo doesn't go near the kitchen unless his lord wants somethin' brought up to his rooms specifically, which's just fine, most lords are like that." She quickly adds on that later part, lifting one hand and pointing to me to make sure I understand her point before she continues. "But recently, since just before the Prince started feelin' ill, Master Malvo's been comin' around deliverin' meals for His Majesty -the Prince, not His Majesty the King, different Majesty."

"Perhaps he feels like being of service to the rest of the palace? Lord Salvin has taken a lady-friend recently, perhaps Malvo simply has more time on his hands now..?" My comment after Zelda's cousin earns a wide, mischievous grin from the maid, but I quickly make sure the conversation doesn't go off course just yet, I want to know this little 'outrage' first before going off to speak of Lady Fawna. "What is it then that makes him seem... less than humble?" Ah, there we go, her attention is focused again.

"Simple, Mistress. Come evenin' time when you deliver a Lord's meal there's a simple set of instructions." I watch as she proceeds to tell me something I've taught to more young people in this castle than she likely knows the names of... "Light the candles, clean the ashes, stoke the fire, turn down the bed. Tell me, Mistress, what's so hard with all of that? Especially for a man who's worked at this sort of thing for more years than I've been born?"

"What indeed..." I murmur, the gardener now silent once more at my side, listening to the younger woman's tirade as I'm eager to hear the point of all this.

"Then why won't he do any of it, Mistress?" At this, I blink, finally, something of interest is being shown to me, and my mind reaches out to take hold of it before it can flitter away with the rest of the gossip. I folded my arms some time ago while listening to her, but at this I drop them, placing my hands loosely on my hips.

"Pardon me?"

"I go in there to tidy up the Prince's room every evenin' now, Mistress, the Lord Salvin's servants takes his meals, but I still have to go in an turn down the bed and such. I don't mind it, really, the Prince is such a sweet man, but Master Malvo throws a fit if I try to bring him the meals instead and let the old man rest an do somethin' else. I ask you, Mistress, why make more work for the both of us and not just let me do it all or have him do it all? In fact!" I take in a sharp breath to steel myself, watching as the maid's eyes flash in a way only an insult to one's ability can bring.

"Master Malvo, he was so rude just a few days ago! Told me not to bother with the Prince's linens- and we all know the poor man's sick! Well, pardon me, Mistress, but I ignored him an' I went after the evenin' meal was served. And you know what I saw?" I don't want to know...

"No, what did you see?" As though I flipped some hidden switch, I watch as that insulted look fades into one of sudden horror.

"The Prince lightin' his candles on his own! Oh, Mistress I was so embarrassed!" Sighing, the maid brings her hands up over her face as though reliving the apparent humiliation of the moment, and I feel almost let down by the anti-climactic end to the tale. However, it does provide a few things to think on. I think it's fairly common knowledge amongst the lower levels that the man who serves her Majesty's cousin and I do not feel the need to be civil with one another very often.

Regardless... the timing and behavior... curious. The lack of Labrynnian blue amongst the servants is also something of reoccurring interest...

* * *

I didn't see it. 

Link's hand went to the doorknob, and with a nod to me he first unlatched, and then swung it open. I didn't predict what happened next, I didn't even feel that slight tingle at the back of my neck, that tangible warning that something would go wrong, even before my sight came to me, before I was anything more than a girl, even that was with me.

The sound was like a dry stick being violently snapped in two, with a rush of air following after at its heels as though Din's fires were powering it on. The moment it sounded from beyond the open door, Link was flung back, kicked clear off his own feet and slammed into the wall across the corridor. I can still hear the echo of it all, the shot and my scream, the sound of him being hurled against the wall, and the Master Sword clattering from his grasp... He hasn't moved since falling, crimson spilling across his chest from the angry black bolt stuck in him just under the right collar bone... Farore...

"So, Segev has fallen..." All the ill feelings coursing through me towards Link and his manner have faded with that terrible sound. I've been rooted to this spot since the shot broke the silence of the manor, and as I turn towards the doorway again the world seems to spin slightly.

The old man is there, of course, swathed in his crimson robes, gold threads decorating the front and the hem, cuffs of each sleeve shimmering with the metal. He stands behind his desk across the room from me, and in his bejeweled hands he holds a weapon that looks as though it should be too heavy for him; a mechanical bow which lies on a block of wood. Cranking it turns gears within that block, and allows the bow to fire powerful metal bolts with more deadly force than a skilled longbow man with any number of arrows.

"His family has served mine well over the years." The bow in his hands now is empty, but I know little more of them than the sight, and cannot tell if it is only waiting for another bolt before it can fire again... "...Perhaps you and I are not so different from one another though, girl." Somehow, even as he sets the mechanical weapon down, I feel no safer.

"Give me the Harp..." What position am I in to make demands of him? Spent as it is, that weapon is still very well within his grasp, and as I feel my eyes trailing towards the Harp sitting on its pedestal behind him, covered by a glass casing, with this wrinkled, horrible little man in the way, it feels to far beyond my grasp.

"How swift you are to ignore your dying friend..." His green eyes watch me carefully as his voice comes out in a low drawl, and I feel myself shudder despite myself at the scrutiny. "Just not of use to you? I'm surprised you're here actually, I knew someone would come, but not the girl I watched plunge into the harbor." Why does he unnerve me so? I feel myself swallow hard at his words, keenly aware of Link's prone form still laying on the ground at my feet. I should be trying to stop the bleeding with... something, anything. He continues to lie there, giving no signs of life, but I cannot take my eyes from the Harp and the man keeping me from it, cannot force my knees to bend and my hands to search for a way to help him...

"The gods will punish you..." I force the words out though my throat feels to be closing around them. Almost unbidden, I begin to move forwards, taking slow and careful steps into the study, watching the old man closely as he smiles at me, opening his hands and spreading them wide questioningly.

"For what? I have merely done that which circumstance has dictated..."

"Murder is not brought on by circumstance."

"However, the re-organizing of a wayward society is." I feel hot anger lick at me as he speaks so calmly of everything around him. Although I know little, I know enough. As his eyes slide past me towards Link however, I still my suddenly very active tongue, watching as he picks up the bow again before beginning to walk out from behind his desk.

"How many men has your friend killed already this night?" He asks quietly, a curious look crossing his face as he is suddenly very focused on the Hero's bleeding form.

"Not a tenth of those whose lives you shattered with the tower." His green gaze flickers to me momentarily at my acidic reply, but as he stops just at the corner of his desk, I can see his attention is not on me at all. He still thinks me a liar, that I am not the Oracle. That; or he believes it completely, and knows well my inability to shed blood… how much might he be relying on that?

"That blade…"

"Give her the Harp, old man…" I all but leap out of my skin as Link's voice cuts through the melodrama of the moment, his words are husky, and low in volume, but there is an… intensity… behind them that makes them powerful. Turning back to him, I can half-see his left hand crawling back towards the hilt of his sword, half gloved fingers closing around the bloodied grip with difficulty. With clear effort, he lifts his arm up, drawing the point of the silvery blade until it digs into the floor beneath him, using it then to help draw himself up.

"You… can't be…" I find myself watching the both of them closely, turning my head between the two. The Regent's pale green eyes are wide with disbelief, his eyes fixated on the sword, but swiftly roaming across the form of the Hero as he drags himself up to his feet. Bent over with pain, stained in so much blood with crimson dripping from his limp right arm, there's an almost… feral... look in his eyes as he stares past me towards the old man.

"This time, I didn't fall asleep…" Slowly, carefully, I find myself edging backwards, coming up to the corner of the wide desk, directly across from the Hylain Regent, his eyes still fixed on Link's bloody form.

"You vanished, and never returned…"

"I'm touched you remember my face so well… The world is… what? Thirty years beyond me now?" Again, slowly I take a step back, my attention torn between the two men, and the prize standing just beyond my reach… "I wonder… what your Queen would think, to see what I've seen after all these years…" At this, despite myself I find that I cannot move, suddenly frozen by the misleading smile which tugs at the old man's lips, and he looks to have regained himself; something which frightens me…

"What Queen?" He asks playfully, and I feel a cold shiver run down my spine at the silky feel gracing his words. He's hiding something… "There is no Monarch, not until my cousin is crowned of course…" I silently curse myself, watching as the old Hylain steps back behind his desk, eyes still on the Hero before him as though I am forgotten. His bejeweled hands slide open one of the drawers in his desk, fiddling with the compartment a moment before withdrawing a thick stack of folded pages.

"A letter…" He offers casually, tossing the sheets of thick parchment onto the dark surface before him, watching as they slide along the bare, polished surface. The desk once again is bare of the usual papers, a single lantern sitting at one corner serving to add additional light despite the others like it along the walls. "From my wife to be specific. She sends her respectfully mournful word that Her Majesty is no more." Despite myself, I can feel the old man's gaze come back to me, and find my eyes turning to his only to be held strongly by them. How smug he looks, so casual as though he has not a care in the world for that which may come about around him now.

"Only heretics to the Gods and the Crown have met with the point of a sword, and now, I implore your unexercised mind to recall to whom the term _'Crown'_ once more implies…"

"Not you." I answer quietly, recalling too many one-sided conversations, hearing so many unfamiliar names and how they will be affected come the next crowning of the next king… His cousin? No, the son of his cousin is the Heir…

I was afraid of Link out on the streets, when he dealt with those men so efficiently and without sway. But I pry my gaze from the old man a moment to look at him as I can hear deep, raspy breaths. His white-washed face looks pained, pale eyes looking at nothing at all as I could swear in the low light they've begun once more to shine with that violet glare. His hand around the Master Sword's hilt is shaking, and I find myself sending up a silent prayer that he is not about to collapse from his wounds. I feel my heart go out to him unbidden, he suddenly looks so lost and in a greater pain than any mortal blow could account for.

Before I can follow him, Link's form seems to blur as he moves. Stunned, I watch as he all but vaults the desk as he charges across the room, startling the old man and causing him to stumble back. His actions swiftly upset the light on the table and causing frantic shadows to claw at the walls before settling down again.

I dart forwards as his shoulders strike the pedestal on which the Harp stands, causing it to sway dangerously to one side before the glass casing tumbles to the ground in an ear-splitting shatter. Ignorant of the shards, I drop to my knees as the Harp follows the panes, feeling sharp pains bite into my legs as I do so, but catching the relic and holding it close to me in sudden relief.

It's as though a veil has been pulled away from me, and I feel a rush of instant relief as not my entire sight, but a portion of it rushes back to me. I feel rejuvenated, the golden strings humming to me in welcome, like an old friend calling me. Once again, after what feels like years without it, I can sense time, feel it swirling about everything, that eternal force that governs all. I all but sigh where I am, kneeling amidst the broken glass without any thought for the two men in the room with me. I'm me again.

The Future is clouded to me, as it so often is, but that sigh turns into a startled shriek, the Past assaulting my mind like a hefty blow. In an instant, the room and manor are gone from me, my Sight hundreds of miles away and moving constantly.

A packet of white paper held in aging hands, a covered platter surrounded in a black aura. Bloodied water and Sheikah needles flash past my mind's eye, chains lashing down across two crowns and drawing them together before one shatters into fragments of gold and sapphire.

The rest that comes to me is clearer, startlingly so, a familiar harbor wrapped in flames, corpses hung from sea-side cliffs. All that I can see holds meaning, but those meanings are not as clear to me as they might have been months or years ago. Time is not so willing to surrender its secrets unto me when my powers wane as they do, but my successor will be able to look upon any sort of vision such as this and pick it apart entirely to find all the hidden truths of the matter.

But I can still see her… she who started this all…

"Do you know… why the Queen never remarried?" As I come from my vision, I find myself still seated amongst the glass from the casing's fall. The Harp continues to simply hum contently in my arms, waiting for when I shall deem it fit to play and send me home through the swirling Ages.

For now however, I watch as the old man splutters and coughs, his slippered feet only just touching the floor beneath him. I watch as Link holds the Master Sword set threateningly against his throat, his wounded right arm somehow finding the strength to hold the other man up by his neck as he keeps the blade's edge up against the soft underside of his chin. The pedestal stumbled back without falling completely, simply resting against the wall behind it and allowing Link to hold the old man up against it without worry. His violet eyes look so… deadly.

"She was… waiting for someone; do you know who it was?" I can hear it, the low hum of the Master Sword, Farore's blade communing with its chosen master. I know Link can hear it with clear meanings, and perhaps it is not always as loud as it is now, but the song it sings is so pure I do not know how it can be denied. It is a song of death, one demanding blood; rivers of it. I wonder, has the sword sung like this all night?

I can feel the tones and pitches of that call now, how they ring through the air and travel through his body, causing his eyes to change to that frightful colour. What's more, is how I can feel the Harp responding. The song of the sword, I can feel it being mimicked by the thrumming instrument in my arms, again, so pure, and coming through in the voice of an old friend…

She destroyed everything, but she is not here now, and she did it all through him. I can feel the glass in my hand before I can recall removing my hand from the Harp, that murderous call still echoing along its golden strings.

"It's such a rich joke really… truly rich…" He's trying to talk his way out of death…

Standing, the world seems as though it's slowing down. I feel numb, as though floating along merely watching myself act from the corner. Somehow, in the back of my mind I know that this song of blood is not for me, that it is being sung for the Hero and that the Harp is merely relating the echo of it. But really, the effect is the same, and have I not earned the right to demand repentance as well? Have I not earned the right to punish? My office and powers have been denied, my dignity destroyed and my pride maimed. My home lies in ruins in this time, and again, it's all because of her… Have I no right to lay claim to the punishment?

You would expect him to scream, but the old man's body merely tenses as the glass tears through his side. It's also a good deal more difficult to stab someone than is hinted at in stories and songs, the wound sloppily dealt as I can feel the glass snaring on the thick cloth of his robes. A weak, fluttering cry is all that whispers past his lips, but although the strike is crude, I can feel it biting in deeply.

What I also feel, is the blood which swiftly runs down the glass, mixing with mine own as it comes from my palm and the backs of my fingers where my own weapon slices me. He did not scream when the glass bit him, and I hold my own silence as that blood so suddenly feels afire. As though I had doused my hand in scalding water, I draw it back quickly, pain lacing up my arm, causing my fingers to twitch violently.

I don't fight the pain of course, don't wonder or demand explanation as to why it hurts or beg for it to stop. I am an Oracle, although a fading one, I am forbidden to shed blood. Although wrongs have been done against me, that does not mean it is right for me to wrong another, directly against the laws of the gods. I knew I was defying their words, and thus see no reason why I should escape the punishment. In fact, with my mind so clear and yet still so clouded… the burning could be said to tickle more than cause me real pain. Vaguely, I hope this doesn't impede my ability to use my hand after all is said and done…

"The Lord of… Faron Fief…" Backing away from the pair of them with my hand still enveloped in this tingling pain, I woodenly stand witness to what happens next. Link's eyes widen ever so slightly, a look of stark pain crossing his face as suddenly his right hand lets the old man drop again. Jeweled hands reach back and grip the pedestal weakly, keeping the regent standing- although just barely.

"There is no Lord by that name." Link's voice is as death, low and breathless with a dangerous edge to it, the old man's lips simply quirking up in a smile, a trickle of blood seeping past his lips as he makes no motion to remove the glass from his side.

"Thirty years… Nameless son of a nameless man…"

Link turns sharply on his heel, as though we are to leave the wounded man were he stands, and I slowly feel myself begin to move again, coming next to one of the lanterns which give light to this suddenly silent chamber. For a moment, I almost believe that this is how it ends…

Until I catch sight of the murderous furry blazoning behind Link's violet eyes.

I hear Farore's Blade let out a sinister cry to echo its master's anger, hatred tainting the normally benevolent light of the sword and staining it crimson for a brief moment. There is no scream as the silver blade carves down through bone and sinew, shattering the old man's torso from the collar bone deep into his chest. There is a sickening splurge of blood, the echo of grinding bones and shredding insides as blood cascades down the Regent's front and to the floor. With a hard twist, I find myself watching wide-eyed as with both hands, Farore's chosen, brings the sword up through the man's body. The strike does not quiet carv through him, but leaves a horrifying v-line gash of bone and lung spilling from his body as he drops to his knees. I can't even tell if the man's death is instant or not, my eyes following the silver and crimson blur of the Master Sword as it whips around once more, the wet thump a severed head echoing in my ears, followed shortly by the toppling of it's headless corpse. The scent of blood is thick in the air… the silence deafening for all that there was no noise to be quieted, perhaps only the beating of that hated heart…

Once clothed in white, salt-stained through an act of pure heroism, Link is now more blood than white. Crimson along his back from the arrow which found its mark in him, face splattered from foes and the blackening spill from his brow. Right arm washed with blood to his elbow, fresh glistening red staining his front from shoulders to knees. And still… the sword sings…

He adds no flourish to the sword as he lifts it over his shoulder, sliding it away into its sheath along his back, where his bow and empty quiver hang unused and useless. He says nothing at all, doesn't even look at me, simply turns and slowly begins to walk away, his left hand lashing out as he passes the letter where it still rests on the desk, batting the pages away so that they fall from the surface and into the wide pool of blood seeping into the floor…

I'm the one who crosses towards the lantern still sitting unbothered on the table, clutching the Harp to my chest. The burning in my hand has cooled, although the pain remains from some damage inflicted by both the glass and the blood. Lifting the oil-fed flame, I'm wary of the glass panes and the heat they've likely absorbed after so long alight.

Tossing the iron-wrought casing to the floor, it seems fitting. The oil spills across the floor and mingles with the blood, the glass shattering and adding to the mess. Not a moment later, flames, golden and almost soothing… begin to eat away at… well…

Everything...

* * *

"Before His Majesty's ascension to the throne, there were many more strongholds across southern Hyrule." I do greatly enjoy the prospect of looking to the past to uncover clues as to the future, spending many of my free minutes combing through texts looking for any bits of interest. 

"One such stronghold of notable standing was Faron Fief, far in the southern province of Faron as the name implies."

But Sir Gerald is perhaps the instructor whom I find to be the most lacking in charisma. Most of my lessons and those of the other squires are taught to us by knights whom have little else to fill their hours, meaning they're normally the oldest and most boring ones to be found…

Sir Gerald is a twisted man with his shoulders notably resting on an angle- the result of a horrifying battle injury during the rebellions years ago. He enjoys his drink to much, and his hair often reminds me of rumpled goose down. Sleepy green eyes peer out over his crooked –thrice broken- nose at the several other boys who make up my class, along with the three or four young girls sitting in the back who are younger sisters of the upper class. Normally there are only five boys plus myself, all squires, but with the flood of nobility in recent weeks with the Prince's arrival there are a number of noble children in here as well.

I personally cannot complain about the presence of the other students, as it's meant that instead of being cramped down in the musty lower reaches of the servant's wings, we get to study in the open, although still fairly musty and low down, expanse of the Royal Library.

"You could say Faron Fief was similar to Lon Lon Ranch, only far more stable, and more militarily inclined. The ruins of the structure still stand just along the border with the Lost Woods."

"Wait; the what?" I didn't notice I actually spoke the words aloud until I find most of the other students suddenly looking at me, along with Sir Gerald. Blessedly, the sleepy old man simply clears his throat and re-iterates a portion of what he was saying.

"The Ruins, Squire Timothy." He says blandly, before turning his attention back to the class as a whole. "Faron Fief was burned to the ground long before any of you were born. It was a risky campaign by his Majesty and Sir Ladekhan, who were both present at the battle. Faron Fief was also the center of the Winds Cult, devoted to the Goddess Farore whose namesake is Faron, one of the four demi-gods of Hyrule, and protectors of our land's Eternal Light… Yes, Lady Elise?"

"Was the Wind cult like the Water Cult? Mama says they used to have Priestesses dance in Lake Hylia's Spirit cave before the war…" Turning in my seat, I look towards the girl a few years younger than I am, sitting promptly atop a stack of books in a summer dress of pink silks and white laces. Her golden hair is spun in ringlets and tied back behind her head, but her eyes are watching Sir Gerald in a very solid manner. Odd, I've never seen a girl look at someone that way before, at least, never about anything **important**.

"Yes, Lady Elise, Lady Savyna is correct." Clearing his throat, I turn back to sit properly in my seat, my cast-covered arm resting easily in my lap as I listen. "The Brotherhood of the Temple of Time worships all three of the Golden Mothers, Farore of Wind, Nayru of Waters and Din of Fire. However, the Brotherhood is a Brotherhood, women are not permitted to join the Temple. Many years ago, the three Cults of Water, Wind and Fire, with their three bases and several temples, allowed the women of Hyrule to devote their lives to any of the three Goddesses, or worship all three in a vagabond manner…" And here, I stop listening, or at least end giving Sir Gerald my full attention. He simply begins to drawl on and on about the old levels of worship spread across Hryule, which soon enough ought to begin branching off to explain the deeper reaches of the elements which make up our world. The significance of each Sage and blah blah blah…

It's a story I already know quiet well, my curiosity begged me question my Lord about it many times over the past year. The Three Goddesses are the physical elements of Wind, Water and Fire with which they created the world. Spirit was bred from the life blessed upon the Golden Land, and the elements of Light and Darkness reflect the abilities of Spirit with each side also being double-sided in itself. The light reveals many hidden truths, but can blind the weak and wreak havoc. Darkness hides many things, but can offer safety and solace. And Time…

Well, Time is that which governs all, and is without a true face. Time protects the passage of Life into Death, two other elements which no sage may embody, or harness the power of. They cannot be expressed in idols or symbols, worshiped in temples. The Oracle of Ages is the closest mortal embodiment of Time, for he or she is a being untouched by its flow unless they will it so. But the Oracles aren't Sages, they're… different…

Oracles come into their powers, and eventually they lose them and find another to take their place. The Oracle of Ages is a mortal whose soul was some how lost in time during the cycle of rebirth, either through an untimely death or some manner of black magic, sometimes even divine intervention. Born in a time separated from their soul mate, both sides begin to weaken and wane throughout life, going unfulfilled. As the Oracle, they right the circumstances which may lead to others becoming like them; souls born or dying out of sync with their other halves while trying to find their own.

The Oracle of Seasons is one who finds no comfort in their lives, but on a level which unrests their very soul. They grow hard and bitter, and slowly loose themselves, dying painfully only to be reborn under the same circumstances and living through it all again. The Oracle becomes one with nature and the seasons until regaining balance, learning again to express themselves and feel free of the constraints of their mortal shells.

The Oracle of Secrets is born surrounded by lies and bitterness, many of them born from a seed planted next to their heart. Some say that seed even replaces the Oracle's ability to feel true raw emotions, such as love or hatred, although you wouldn't know it to meet one. By being able to see through all lies and holding all truths within themselves, the soul learns to hold onto things again, how to find something sacred and experience the pain of losing something so dear to them when secrets are revealed.

I have been privileged to learn all of this, because my Lord has been blessed with the presence of all three Oracles in his life, although not closely. In my Lord's travels, he has come across the entire trinity, and worked closely with them in beating back the evil clouds of the Gerudo King... But… the fact remains; Oracles are not sages, they're completely different.

So, as the lecture continues, I proceed to entertain myself with a small wad of paper, skillfully smacking Sir Ladekhan's squire square in the back of the neck several times before he finally realizes it's me, and I wave my cast-covered arm at him innocently. He can't attack an injured Squire, or challenge me to anything.

Of course, in a few more weeks, I'll most defiantly be in for it...

* * *

**Been meaning to toss in some nice little background information about the Oracles, more so Seasons and Secrets since I've mentioned Nayru's origins a couple of times already. **

**And no, I didn't misspell 'violent' several times in this chapter, the intended word WAS 'violet'. **


	27. Chapter 27

**Bleh, so I missed my weekly update, eh? Sorry, Belated Birthday/Slumber party this weekend, plus some troubles getting characters in general to cooperate with me. I've ended up cutting a few things I originally wanted to add, but meh…**

**Enjoy. **

* * *

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 27

I feel… tainted. Blackened in a way in which I've never been before. The need to be sick is crushing me along with the light-headed nausea flowing through me as I stumble blindly down the halls of Salvin's manor. I can feel the Master Sworm humming contently along my back, the approval from the blade disgusting me, and yet even if I were to let myself fall now, I know my stomach would turn up nothing. And I know why.

Because it felt so **good**. I've never felt this way about death before, never enjoyed the moment where that glassy look overcomes my opponent. Not even when carving down the terrifying beast of Ganon in the ruins of the Castle in that time that never was, or the raging boar which revived itself in the hidden heart of the world, have I ever taken pleasure from robbing something, or someone, of its life. I've always told myself I kill only those who would kill me...

And now, now I'm covered in the blood of an old, defenseless man. A man who only fought with words, left the blood to others beneath him to shed. Physically, what threat was he to me? None, none at all. When I turned to walk away, that was what I should have done. I should have _walked away_.

Oh, but Farore, it was just so rewarding… What have I become?

"Link." I can smell smoke already, the foul stench of burning flesh and blood catching up with me as the sick feel of the crimson covering me makes me only more aware of all the lives I've stolen tonight. So tainted, and yet I still can't feel bad… why not?

In part, I think I know why. I've felt… different… since that night weeks ago when I made my vow before the Master Sword and the men assembled on the _Fair Lady_. Wounds haven't hurt as much, it's taken me longer to tire, I find fewer reasons to speak… More and more, I can feel myself retreating back into some hidden part of me, allowing only instincts and duty to drive me on and meet all of these high-set goals. All I've done tonight is kept Nayru alive, everything has been for that.

Or at least, it was until he said… that…

Who in Din's fiery hell lords over Faron Fief? Is there even such a place? Ruins beyond the Lost Wood, I remember them faintly, having ridden past them a number of times over the years, takeing shelter there once or twice for a night before moving on. No one rules the forest save the Deku Sprout, the plains beyond the forest have been free of lords since the rebellions years ago. There is no Fief there, there is no Lord there. So, why would Zelda…

Dead, no… I can't… quite grasp that image. I can't think of her that way. Already over all this time I've had to come to grips with so much, friends dead and people slaughtered, but this one just doesn't… work. Am I supposed to trust the words of a liar? A man who took courtly games far beyond whatever prior levels they were at during the years I've lived within the castle?

Thirty years… how much can truly change in that length of time…? Could someone have really… rebuilt what was lost in bloody war? Taken it for themselves, made themselves into something, for all that they had the blood of nothing? Blood and breeding have no baring on ability, but they can pose as great hurtles to those attempting to break out of the lower classes… That is a lesson I should know better than any other… Nameless son of a nameless man…

"Link." I keep finding it hard to breathe, is it the fire? I'd be amazed if the flames have grown so high already, enough to fill the entire level with smoke, but there were many books in that study… No… it's likely the piece of metal buried in my chest, it's strange, my entire arm is numb; where's the blinding pain that should have killed me? How am I still walking? How did I use the arm I can hardly feel anymore? The power of anger isn't something to be trifled with…

"Link, it's this way." I feel a tug on my arm- my left- and look towards the person calling me. Nayru's shadowed eyes are all I see, and I feel a surge of bitterness towards her, feeling her tug at me and draw me along with her, the Harp still clutched to her chest as though it would try to escape her grasp if she loosened it however slightly.

I find myself just lost in thought as I'm dragged along, nearly tripping twice down the stairs as I feel short of breath; dangerously so as the salt of burning wood begins to fill my nostrils and dry my mouth. I don't press myself to run as we reach the doors, Nayru opening them before I can try to take any of the weight, and I stumble forwards only a few feet before finding myself on the ground. Farore, my chest burns…

"You can't die, come on…" Nayru's voice sounds almost sad as she speaks to me, trying to grab my left arm as though to literally drag me now away from the burning building behind us. Somehow, that also seems to aggravate me, and I grit my teeth, shaking myself free of her before fighting to reach my feet yet again. A pleading, whinny edge keeps working its way into her voice, and I find it irritating as the night by now is at once both to dark too see through, and yet I can tell it is soon to begin lightening in the far east. What a hellish night this has been…

Every time she opens her mouth to utter some whinny encouragement to me I feel my jaw stiffen more so than before. As her strength has apparently returned to her, I can only feel mine waning, following her through the gates of the manor and finding myself being led along down the dark streets. If there is still cannon fire in the harbor, I cannot hear it. However, truth be told I can hardly hear anything over the thunderous pounding of my heart in my ears.

The pain doesn't fade as I force myself into an exhausted jog, my eyes simply not drawing in any light as the world continues to darken around me, my sight narrowing until I can see hardly anything but whatever warped image is directly before me. I don't know how, but the stained and tattered cloth of her skirts, they seem to catch any light that is to be had as we move down the streets at whatever pace I can manage. Sky blue and pale green, they shine with an intensity which hurts my eyes, but I still don't know where whatever light they're grabbing is coming from.

Where are we going? Several times I can feel myself try to sum up the breath to ask her, the urge to just let go and collapse keeps growing stronger as I trudge forwards along for what feel like miles. That numbness from my arm, I can feel is spreading like icy cold through my chest. Intrusive fingers snaking their way across my flesh, seeking out my heart but content to freeze my lungs and spiral down through my legs to cramp them in the meantime.

But why are we running? She has the Harp, damn it all she has it, why are we running? There is a battle going on in the lower levels of the city, and yet she has the means to take us somewhere- sometime!- safe from any Lion soldiers or pirate crews. Why won't she just use it?

If I fall before she deems it time to use the Harp, I will not get up. Better men have fallen from lesser wounds, and all I can hear in my mind now are the words of that murderous Zora Prince…

_'That Fairy could've saved your life…'_ To which I replied it would not be worth it if the Oracle died. Well, now here I am, ready to die while she runs ahead of me perfectly fine save a bit of fatigue. That cold makes my limbs feel so heavy, the sword over my back pressing down on me, bidding me slow down with its weight. Had I that small glowing being again, I would not be so desperate as this to stop, able then to simply unlock her and ask for her help and hopefully be rid of the metal stuck in my flesh; that hard knot of ice threatening to overcome me with it's presence.. The clear air beyond the flames is of little comfort, thick with summer heat as I gasp for breath, before turning to icy cold within me, further complicating the simple act of staying alive.

"Please, Link, she'll help us, I know she will." Who, woman? Who!? You're the one who can help us now; take us out of here, far away from any more danger. Take us back to when life makes sense, back to when I can... protect... her…

…Zelda…

* * *

I keep looking over my shoulder at him, making sure he's still following me. Hunched over as he runs, I can practically feel the life draining from him. His time is running through his fingers like fine sand, the way blood is trailing behind him on the ground... 

Past or present however, there is one place we need to be, and stopping now without being within the Maku Tree's sanctuary only means that we will have to continue running again to reach her. I can't ask him to stop moving so that I may play the Harp, and then force him to start moving again once we arrive. I can't say how easy or hard it will be to move us through time at all, how long he'll have to wait in agony before I can finally spin the song to take two people instead of one.

A calm place, that's where we're going, one of the few points in the world where the gods first granted life unto their creations. The Great Deku Tree of Hryule was the first great being of the lands, and from its seeds came the Maku Trees of Labrynna and Hollodrum, each a guardian of their own separate lands. The great trees may live for any number of centuries, although they do eventually die, but when they fall they release a single seed, a pure orb of life from which sprouts the next tree, and the next.

Link has had the great honour of carrying not just one, but two of these benevolent orbs, each the size of a clutched first. The power of the seeds can break through most any barrier of black magics; and they are what permitted him to enter Ambi's Tower years ago, and the fortress of the dark General Onox before that.

"We're almost there, Link, look." Looking ahead through the lightening dark, the night is waning in the east, and I can at last make out the square with Link's toppled statue. For all that it lies in ruins, the sight of the crooked base and shattered monument give me hope. I was a fool when I first arrived here, simply leaving the sanctuary unexplored when despite the presence of the gates it would not be beyond my ability to simply enter through less conventional means.

Cut into the boulders which form a natural wall around the sanctuary is a small passage. A cave of simple switches and puzzles once prophesized to test a would-be-Hero who sought council with the guardian. Link was that hero, and I can recall what feels like a lifetime ago how he took Ralph and I through the maze a few times, explaining as we went along. The Maku Tree reprimanded him for it, but in jest, since it was unlikely that Lynna would need another Hero again within our lifetimes…

I do not pay the statue any mind as we reach the square, and I find myself pausing for a moment; scanning the empty space and listening intently for the sounds of boots or metal to signal another run in with Lion-blazoned soldiers. Blessedly, I hear nothing.

Link's steps are uncertain behind me, and I turn to see him half-stumbling along across the uneven cobbles of the street. His eyes have lost that violet shine, and for this I'm grateful. But his strength only continues to wane as his gaze is notably without focus. If we don't hurry, he may-

It's best not to think on what may or may not happen if he does not receive help soon. I know he has come close to death numerous times throughout his life, but the fact that he has survived those instances is of little comfort to me now. I know he is strong, but even men chosen by the gods have limits, and once reached...

I feel a numb flash of fear as I cross the square and face the ivy-covered rock of the sanctuary's natural wall. Searching one-handedly, beyond the glossy leaves I can feel nothing but crumbling stone and meshed stems. The door should be here though, somewhere. I can hardly remember the last time I sought to enter the tunnel, and can find none of the few marks along the stone to show me how close or far I am from my mark. Even in my time, the walls are covered in lively growth. Finally, I can feel a place where the growth falls in to much when pressed upon, meaning the entrance is right here before me. Frantically, I find myself tearing into the leaves, rope-like coils snapping under my fingers as they're so much thicker than they should be, as though they've grown like a skin over the portal. The bitter stench of pus fills the air, and wet sap begins to itch across my abused hands, tucking the harp safely under my arm as I do so. I don't have any manner of tool to make the job easier though and I cannot ask for Link to help me, I don't need him draining himself even more...

Finally, with a series of sharp snaps, I give a short yelp before at last the vines relent, myself falling through them and landing hard on my knees, the Harp slips from me and strikes the ground, the force of the landing jarring the strings, and causing a confused, but innocently harmless sound to flitter through the air from it. Dimly, I can almost sense time altering around me, but only a brief moment or two before everything settles down once more.

That sound brought time a few moments ahead of me, and I blink as I feel Link trying to help me up by one arm. Swiftly regaining both the Harp and my feet, it's all but impossible to see in the darkness of the passage. The size is misleading from the outside, one would expect to be in a closed, tight space, but I can feel the air moving, and know the chamber to be wide and tall, the ground beneath me covered in crumbled tile on a steep downward slide.

Blessedly, unless the years have changed absolutely everything from my memory, this chamber and the two beyond it are simply navigated, all of the doors open and flowing from one to the other straight and simple. I think he knows where we're headed now, Link's footsteps echoing through the shadows as I can hardly make him out against the darkness ahead of me. I can feel the space around us abruptly tighten before opening up once more, the first open chamber behind us. This cave is not long at all, perhaps a hundred yards or so... nor is the exit covered as the entrance was; already in the second chamber, the milky light of day can be seen shining faintly in through the door of the third chamber's exit. We're so close now...

There is of course... another reason why I wish to be properly within the sanctuary before trying to pass through the years... My powers are fading, and although the Harp's condition is as it always has been; utterly perfect. But sitting out there in the open, in plain sight and unable to defend in case another troop of soldiers comes across us..? How can I take that risk? Being within the caves themselves is also of little difference, because although we are protected here, I would once more be in a position of having to stop Link and then force him into motion again; and I cannot do that to him!

The moment we reach the gentle light of the exit, something in the air is gravely amiss… I cannot say what it is exactly… but something's… not right. The light passing through the canopy high above us as we step out of the cave is to pale, the sanctuary to dark. I feel as though my sight is suddenly washed with gray, the lush greens which should rim the sanctuary are missing from the flora, the ankle-deep water which flows lazily about the tree's base not as clear as it ought to be… Something is… wrong here.

"Maku Tree?" I call shyly, entering the sanctuary properly, a bitter, crumbling scent like that of wet wood is overpowering in such a small space; the sanctuary only several yards across and well over half of it taken up by the wide trunk of the Guardian Spirit. I place my hand on the round bumps of the Maku Tree's roots, waiting to hear her stir or speak as I walk around, trying to reach the front where she can see me. The moment I touch her however, I nearly scream at the force of the vision which assaults my tired mind.

I see the sanctuary around me wrapped in the darkness of night. People fill the gates which are bonded shut beyond me now, all the faces but one blurred by time. The age leaves his face unfamiliar to me, but Hylian red is picked out in the crimson flame he holds, green eyes glowing as he stands before my land's guardian. That single flame burns hotly, growing in size and intensity until it is all I can see.

"She's dead…" Link's voice is so weak as he whispers those damning words. As though the roots before me were burning once more, I snatch my hand away from the dead wood I was leaning on.

And he's right too, in the growing light of morning, I can see why the colours are wrong, the sunlight passes harshly through a canopy of bare twigs stretching nearly a hundred feet or more overhead. The once deep earthy brown of her bark has dulled to a pale waxen gray, and as we come around to the front of her, I find myself nearly in tears.

The Maku tree is a living entity, aware of those around her with the ability to speak and think for herself although rooted to the ground. As those of her race, the first brings of the land, she is giant in size, dwarfing any other tree in all the land, several yards across in the trunk, over a hundred feet tall. The large loops of her roots where they spiral up out of the ground are thicker than a man's shoulders in places, and higher up than I am tall. I just hug my Harp to me dearly. How many sunny afternoons and calm evenings have I spent sitting on those perches, speaking with her of the ages she's seen?

I can see nothing of the face hidden in the contours of the bark, and tears sting my eyes bitterly as her entire front is marred with an ugly crack, her insides blackened and hollow… Oh, Farore…

"The Oracle… is dead…" At this I pause, staring at the shattered face of my dear friend for a moment more before turning to look at Link.

"What?" He isn't facing the tree- or what remains of her at least- instead I can see him where he's standing before one of the other trees within the sanctuary, one of the many which have sprouted in the wake of the Guardian's once protective aura.

It's so hard for me to turn away from the Maku Tree's remains, but I can see the barest glimmer of green light around him as he stands there staring at the other unassuming plant. Were it not standing so near the guardian's remains, it would be fairly large itself, it's branches long and straight, the sort one ties ropes to in order to build swings for children.

Reaching out, I know what will happen when I touch my hand to the smooth bark of the tree. Instantly, my sight blurs and I see the images of a night many years past. I see the torches and their hideous glow, soldiers in glittering armor and shaded faces as they come towards this invisible point where I stand. Behind them, the fires grow, and the pained screams of a dying guardian rumble through me.

All the colours before me swirl and change without definite focus, and for a moment I almost fear I won't see all that I must. But then it comes to me, fast as quicksilver, painful as a knife. I see a length of rope in one ghostly soldier's hands, two more becoming the center of my sight before a shadow between them suddenly takes on a life of its own. I only see her face for an instant, one single moment where the angry red of the flames shines off the soft curves of her face, glittering tears seeping from her emerald eyes as her hair falls about her in unruly clumps, like tangled vines of green.

"_Farore!_"

It's gone, the pictures all flee from my mind as water through my hands, although the details of the memory are pressed upon mine like a brand. I find myself on my knees, the water swirling around me icy cold as I'm not ashamed to weep. No… this, no… Farore… The Harp fell when I did, and through the clear water of the sanctuary, it's smooth round face shines up at me quizzically.

"The Oracle of Secrets…" Farore…

There are three Oracles in all the world, Seasons, Ages, and Secrets. And each of us has our own niche in society, although it can be difficult for us to find them at first. The Oracle of Seasons is highly revered in the land of Hollodrum, and becomes the head of the Temple of Seasons, the acting ruler of the land by right of birth and divine providence.

For other Oracles in my position, it is not uncommon throughout history for the Oracle of Ages to act as a vizier for a court. A part of the reason I've never sought to leave Labrynna comes from the fact that a predecessor of mine spent his time as Oracle aiding in the founding of the Ambi house several hundred years before Miriam's birth.

The Oracle of Secrets, however, is less involved with the matters of state. By nature, most of them are inaptly curious, using their ability to see through most lies as a tool to uncover hidden truths. My dear friend, Farore, the Oracle I've always known, she has spent her life traveling between the three great trees of our continent, learning all she can of the past and the world, writing much of it down in the thick manuscript; the Book of Secrets. That book is the tool of the Oracles as much as my harp or Din's rod.

But, if Farore was here within Labrynna when the Maku Tree was—

"This is why I was brought here…" I give a slight start as Link's strength seems to fail him, the Hero falling to his knees in the water across from me. I almost expected to see a look of shock written across his face as I know there is across mine, but instead, all I see is a calm, nostalgic expression in his eyes.

"It wasn't you… it was Farore… Or… both… I don't… I don't even…" Nostalgic, no, it's glassy, his eyes are without focus. I take his head tip forward and back unsteadily as a slap to the face, his condition once more snaring my complete and utter attention.

"Link, no!" Scrambling forwards on hands and knees, his eyes drift shut for a moment half-opening lazily as I quickly splash his face with a handful of water, grabbing the sides of his head and forcing him to meet my eyes.

"Don't fall asleep," His eyes are so strange, what were two violet orbs in battle now are nearly gray with exhaustion. I do my utmost to keep his eyes on mine; although I can see them wander and try to close again as he begins leaning to once side. How numb must his body and mind be now? I nearly make to pull him back as he lets himself lean against the tree where my fellow Oracle was once hanged years ago. But I don't stop him, I almost thought he was to rest his weight upon his injured soldier, but even at his limit of endurance he twists his body enough so that it is his back which connects with the wood, not his arm.

Fumbling behind me in the sanctuary waters, I find the Harp and draw it up from the slim layer of muck at the pond's bottom. Running it through the water once to rid it of any grime, I lift it and place it in the crook of my arm where it belongs. I needn't worry about this treatment harming the instrument and its golden strings; it is Nayru's gift to her chosen ones, her element cannot damage it.

"Only a few moments more, Link, I swear…" I whisper quickly, the daylight growing stronger and revealing only more horrors to me. The black scars of the Maku Tree, how old are they now since no scent of smoke hangs in the air? There is no rope on any branches over my head, and yet now that the knowledge has been brought to my attention I can feel the heavy sense of death. I have seen one ghost tonight already; I cannot bare the sight of another.

And yet, I hesitate. For a moment, my hand goes to the strings of the Harp as I prepare the pluck a melody of dual passage, but before my fingers can hardly graze the strands of gold, the freeze. My fingers are burned and blistered from blasphemous acts against the gods, my wrists chaffed and raw from weeks of imprisonment. These are not the hands which have so cavalierly danced across these glittering threads for years, these of the hands of a desperate woman who must find her way home before there is nothing left to find.

I find myself as terrified now of the harp in my arms as I was the very first time I ever touched it. I found confidence in that first terrifying mistake, when I learned what I certainly must **_not_** do to the instrument, and yet now I'm robbed of that assurance… I hear no melody… The Harp is silent.

The harp is silent, but not the world. I feel a terrifying chill run down my spine as the quiet of the dawn is slowly broken. It is not the rumble of distant cannon fire or the stomping of orderly boots which runs across my skin now however, nor is it a voice calling to me through time.

Low, like the wind, with the power of the grinding earth, and the eerie flow of water, I can hear it. A sad sound as though from the lips of the weeping Goddesses themselves. There is a reason the great trees of the world were the first designs of the Goddesses, for only they three are beings of all three elements of Wind, Water, and Fire, who endure through the Spring, Summer, Winter, and Fall and stand boldly through the Past, Present and Future. They are the true children of the Gods…

And now, deep within the burnt, hollow shell of its mother, as I pluck gently at the golden strings before me, one is weeping…

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**For those of you who haven't played Oracle of Ages, there is indeed a cave next to the sanctuary gates, because said gates are locked after you first meet the tree. Either they started off locked like in Seasons, or they were only locked in the Past when you had to save the Tree as a sprout, I don't quite remember. But the cave's still there no matter what although I'd be surprised if I followed the in-game cavern at all, since I don't remember a single thing about it save that it was short and easy to get through. **

**Matters will turn 1 year old on June 29th, 2007. Think I can finish it before then?**

**If you've gotten this far, then please; LEAVE A REVIEW!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Last chapter would have probably come of as more emotional to most readers than it did if Oracle of Ages had been a more popular game. As it stands now, I can understand if some people didn't see much of a point behind the Maku Tree's death, but really it'd be similar to when the Deku Tree died, only in Labrynna and Hollodrum the entire nation knows about their guardian and likes/loves/respects them.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Matters of the State **

Chapter 28

"You don't know when she'll return, do you?" Absently, I continue with my task of rewriting the scrolls kept safe here beneath the Maku Tree. For years I've traveled across the three countries of the continent, primarily to visit with the three sacred Guardians of the Land. I was let down to learn that the Great Deku Tree of Hyrule passed on when I was still too young to have appreciated its knowledge. Instead, I've had to content myself with the presence of the two Maku Trees of Hollodrum and Labrynna, although in honesty I've found the company of Labyrnna's guardian more enjoyable. She tends to sleep less than her brother, and normally I have the frequent company of the Oracle of Ages, whereas Din is normally far in the northern reaches of Hollodrum, in recent years monitoring the rebuilding of the Temple of Seasons.

My question had a subject of course, and as I scrawl across yet another white page of fresh parchment in the soft light of a small fairy - there is a tiny colony of them living high within the upper canopy of the Maku Tree- occasionally some of them come down to visit me, and their light can be especially helpful. As my gossamer-winged friend gives a small shrug within her little aura, I look towards the Book of Secrets where it rests at my elbow, propped up on a small stand. It's wooden cover and bindings are painted green and gold, the spine as thick as my hands and the length of it the same as my forearm.

Reaching out to it as I finish the current line, I reach out and part the bindings with a creek, gazing across the various empty pages within, searching for an answer. The Book of Secrets will reveal any secrets it knows when asked. Of course, if no one's ever written said answer, as is the case now, it certainly won't respond.

Sighing, I go back to my work, but only until a low sound reaches my ears. Pausing my pen, I remove the nub from the page careful not to leave an unsightly smear. Capping my inkwell, I reach for the small vial at my side and sprinkle an even flow of sand over my writing, blowing softly and sifting the page gently before tapping the sand off into a small basket I keep specifically for this purpose. Leaving the page then on the desk, I push my seat back from my station and stand, absently touching the top of the Book of Secrets before walking past it.

My doe-skin trousers whisper slightly as I begin walking through the low but wide chamber here beneath the Maku Tree; for the most part it's cut into the stone beneath her. She told me years ago that there was space enough for someone to live, and she was more than welcoming when I asked if I could stay. A few pillars have been added since that time six years ago, but long before the Maku tree mentioned any sort of worry about falling on me. Many of the records I have now are things Nayru has collected over the years.

Absently, I run one hand back through my black hair, although most agree that the colour is so deep and shaded that it's more green than anything else. Braided behind me, I shake my head once to feel the familiar weight of my two golden clasps woven into the strands. In truth, they're bracelets which by now I should be able to wear without worry, but since I received them as a child, I've always used them as hair ornaments and little else.

The light of the fairy hesitates for a moment, allowing my shadow to grow longer as I walk, but swiftly she catches up to me, hovering just over my shoulder with her milky glow. The night is dark, and has been for many days now, the moon not showing its face and the stars shy to twinkle in the endless black. Ill omens to be sure, the meanings many feel are directed towards Nayru's unexpected absence.

I as well as anyone else who's known Nayru for a substantial amount of time know that she has the innate tendency to completely forget herself and her schedule. But not even her memory is so horrid so as to keep her away for so many long weeks when her promise was to return in only a few days.

And now, I can hear it, the low hum in the air and rippling through the ground, broken only by the near-silent voice of a harp. Quickening my pace, I climb the few stone steps which lead to the open portal to my home, my fairy friend fluttering about my head as I look out into the warm summer night.

"Hush, Farore..."

I nod although she cannot see the action, placing one hand on the smooth bark of the Maku Tree's spiraling roots. Her voice is soft like the wind with a deep tone as the earth. From where I stand now almost hidden beneath her, I cannot see the face of the guardian tree, but now have a clear view of that which drew me away from my writings.

Sometimes, in the far north atop the highest and coldest Goron Mountains, the sky at times of night may shimmer with green and lights and ribbons of crimson fire. Some say it is the dwellings of the Goddesses, and that when they fly in the nighttimes it is their auras which dance across the sky.

That same whimsical, shimmering light is what stands before me now, only instead of expanding across the sky, it is condensed before me on the ground, the waters of the sanctuary rippling out away from it as I can hear the shy, yet quickened voice of a very familiar harp whittling through the air. I can describe the light only as a series of strings really, as though I can see the movement of the music in the air and the wind stirring around it. Like a complicated lace looping through itself with shimmering red and golds lacing through that soft docile blue. The song itself is impossible to discern, the instrument standing in a time without time with it's musician, sending the notes spiraling through moments before and after one another with little pattern at all, but I know that for one within that void the song is sweet and pure...

As quietly as I can manage, I continue to step out of the doorway, the sanctuary waters coming up to my ankles as my boots are made to withstand the wet anyways. Without splashing, I gesture of the fairy to stay with me, and I carefully begin to walk forwards past the roots which twist around the tree's base. Through that swirling light of the song and magic, I can already make out the images of the two people held within the protective cocoon.

For a moment, I don't understand why there would be more than simply one person coming through time with Nayru. Perhaps, maybe, she's found someone to take her place? She's become so involved with the goings on of the city and their new prince in recent months. Have this city and this time truly become her home? The Oracle of Ages has nothing wrong with them in the heart, no scars of black magic; they're simply born out of sync with their generation and so search for it. To be honest, I have always resented the thought of Nayru vanishing into some other age, of her finding her place hundreds of years before or after the years Din and I carry on in. But perhaps that is why she went away for so long…

Coming up as close to the swirling magic as I dare, I stand here watching the red-laced clouds, it's so like watching oil skimming across water, only moving a hundred fold faster. Hypnotic really, but I can see the magic beginning to unravel, the chopped up notes of the song finally rearranging themselves. Yes, there are two people within the magic, the one I can recognize as Nayru is slumped forwards on her knees, the harp likely held close to her as I note a look of exhaustion running through her shadowed form. The other, he must have been leaning on something in the time they left, for he is already with his back towards an existing tree within the sanctuary. Of course, he's several inches away from it, but his position makes me think of the not-so-distant future. Trees live a very long time…

The first time I watched my fellow Oracle move through the ages, I was surprised to learn that no one else could see this light. For them one moment she is there and then simply not, as though they freeze in time as she spins her songs and vanishes. Perhaps it is only through divine providence that the three of us can see the others abilities, how Din is clothed in flame when she dances with her staff, the mesmerizing emerald light which leaps from the pages of the Book of Secrets when it reveals itself to me...

Without warning, the sorrow of the music strikes me sharply. Broken as it was before, I could not hear the solemn voice of the Harp until now, and despite myself I can feel my throat tightening as the deep sound is one of great sadness.

Slowly, the light of the oracle's magic begins to fade, and the music as well softly tapers off until it can hardly be heard for all that Nayru's hands still move across the instrument. Once the last of the spell is unwoven and her fingers fall from the harp strings, I finally come in closer to her, the milky white light of the fairy on my shoulder allowing me to see her through the darkness.

"Nayru." Gently, I pet down her hair in a comforting gesture, one familiar between us as from the start we have always been as sisters to one another. It is part of the draw between us as Oracles, even if we do not share injury; we share a special bond that most cannot understand.

Her hair is course under my fingers, stiff and matted with grime, parts of it shorter than the surrounding strands, even with her back to me as it is, I can tell that she has endured much. Clearly, all has not been well with her, and I slowly dismiss the notion of her having been moving across time to find her replacement. But, if the man now is he, then should I not at least see his face?

No longer held by the force of her spell in the position he was in during whatever era they've traveled from, I'm almost surprised as he doesn't stir in the slightest, having fallen to his back, the cool waters of the sanctuary lapping at his sides. At first, I haven't the faintest idea who he might be, something which doesn't bother me of course. But then, the moment I dismiss any thoughts of who he might have once been, two things strike me very hard.

Although the night is dark, and the glow of my companion very shy, I can see something shining brilliant blue over one of his shoulders. Submerged under the shallow waters of the sanctuary is a sword hilt, but instead of being something so simple as that, is the deep royal blue wings which flank a blade I know from memory to shimmer like silver. It's been so many years since I last gazed upon the legendary blade of the goddess whose name I share, but I recognize the Master Sword instantly.

Suddenly the lines of his face change in my eyes. In truth, he does nothing more save continue to lay there, pale eyes parted slightly, blackened streams of blood dry across his brow and trailing down past one side of his face. But all at once the sharp angles of his nose and chin jump out at me, suddenly I recognize that face, only younger and still baring the roundness of childhood… If that he were wearing the brilliant green tunic and cap from memory, I could have recognized him sooner…

"Link..?" I haven't forgotten Nayru, not in the slightest, but even in the dim light of my companion the crimson which covers his form is startlingly clear to me. The rivulets of blood spiraling out from his shoulder give the impression of a massive spider latched onto his chest, black legs snaking across him as it's poised to strike. How pale he looks in this light, his hair glowing white in the milky glow of the fairy as the stains across his body are sharp in contrast. With the water glittering around him on all sides, the shimmer of it all is reflected ethereally in his eyes.

"Oh… Din, no…"

Reflected in his sightless, glassy eyes…

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I could feel them slipping away, those last precious moments of life, like the final grains of sand through the spout of a perfectly smooth hourglass. And yet it wasn't something I could pause… 

Time is… an omnipresent force. Even when passing through it even I feel the continued draw of seconds and minutes, for even as the world swirls around me endlessly there is still time gripping me, demanding breath and a beating heart. True, I am a being whom Time does not touch, I do not age unless I order the ages around me to leave their mark, but even I am bound by the need to live while the time speeds or slows around me.

The sense of old death around me faded as I came through time, but that sensation is replaced now by the stinging cold of the newly lost. He looks so pale, like a ghost with flaming white hair. His eyes which were a deep violet in battle are a stony grey now, gazing sightlessly at nothing with the sickly film of death painted across them.

"Mother Din, let your fires guide a lost soul through the trials of death, expose all lies and traps of life and purge the blackness of anger from his heart..."

I failed him. Resent him as I have since he first shed the blood of his fellow men, he fulfilled his duty to the gods and myself, he saved my life, retrieved my hope, the item that was to be our means of escape.

"Mother Farore, may your winds carry fourth the soul who surrenders to the flames of your sister. Carry him forth to the Golden land and give him courage to look beyond petty loss..."

But then I led him down the streets of a war-torn city, made him climb through a hidden passage into a glade of death. And then, as his strength was failing him, I dithered about weeping over deaths I have the ample strength to undo.

"Mother Nayru, with your waters wash away the sorrow from our hearts. May your love give us the strength to-"

"**_Silence!_**" The command is past my lips before I hardly notice myself ready to speak. I do not look up from where remain on my knees to see the look of muted shock behind Farore's emerald eyes, her voice stilled with the final words of prayer hanging on her lips.

"He died because of _us!_ The gods sent him to that hellish world because of **_us!_**" I cannot keep the bitterness from my words, hot fire licking at my soul as I feel myself shaking in outrage.

"Nayr-"

"The gods do not send their Hero through time to settle civil war!" I snap, earning myself a look of legitimate surprise from Farore now as she stands next to me, watching me in shock with her braided hair behind her head. "They would have summoned him in that same time to save the Oracle of Secrets, but when the Oracle of Ages sent herself there like a blind fool they put off the summons and snatched up a younger him instead!"

"Nayru! Get a hold of yourself!" It is so hard to make Farore respond to anything in outrage or anger. That seed of blackness next to her heart steals all emotion from her, devouring it and numbing her heart from birth. Those who do not know her think she is a flamboyant young woman who behaves as a child, but that is only because when she is amongst the townsfolk she pretends to laugh and exclaim over things, trying to teach herself what it is to feel. But too evoke true emotions…

She reaches one hand out to me as she did before, but this time I bat her away sharply, rising to my feet and ignoring the unpleasant cold of my soiled skirts against my legs.

"I won't let it happen." I hiss blackly, looking away from her and glaring down at the corpse at my feet. In death, he isn't even looking at me, I wonder, is that an act of kindness, that I needn't have his sightless gaze on me accusingly? I have escaped the hellish nightmare; I can feel the years around me now, telling me that this is the time I left, although many weeks past when I originally took leave to visit the Queen. And him? He who begged for me to take us home the moment the means to do so was returned to me? He is the one now lost. His blood is on my hands.

And in truth, I do not feel the age so much as the Harp tells me that this is where and when we have traveled too. In my own right, I am still blind.

"I will not let it come to pass, any of it…"

"Nayru…" This voice is not Farore's, but is deep and soft, although with a sound to it which makes it sound distinctly feminine. "Please… come to me, speak to me, tells us what you have seen…" What I have seen? These past weeks of my life have not been some simple vision, not so easily dismissed as harmless nightmares. I need only look to my blistered wrists and the corpse at my feet to affirm that belief.

"Nay-nnn…!!" Farore's hands clench in front of her as I half-notice the other Oracle gritting her teeth against any further words. In truth, I myself am almost as shocked as she as my abused fingers are once more plucking the golden strings of the Harp in my arms. I can feel a curious sound running along the length of the Harp, as though instrument is questioning my intentions. It knows that I shall only be its Mistress for so much longer, and it is wary of my intentions. Somehow, I feel almost offended by this distrusting air.

Farore does well to hold her peace now, as does the Maku Tree behind me, her wooden face likely lined with concern for my actions. They know well to be silent or as near as while I pluck away at the strings, in truth, I should be more careful with them now than I am, should be wary of the Harp as it is of me. I am doing something now which is very nearly forbidden, and with the instrument in my arms no longer singing to me as it has for so many years now, one mistake may be truly fatal…

The gentle sounds of the harp flutter through the air like strings, each one fine as spider's silk, shimmering with the palest of blue lights. One single strand also carries with it many echoes, as all sounds do. So in truth, each note brings forth several strings of light, and the task falls to me to weave each and every sound into its rightful place. Within a few moments of my strumming, the air is filled with a soft blue glow, like the ocean at mid-day. The sounds of any intruding voices, now, at this time, would be more than enough to send this loose pattern of music into nothing more than a spiraling vortex of shambled ages.

It is like weaving a tapestry together all at once, instead of simply thread by thread. But this is not a time where a single snare may be afforded, each sound must be woven into the pattern perfectly, the most delicate form of magic. I cannot weave the simple bubble to protect myself from the actions of the moving world around me either, even the act of manipulation which has always been second nature to me, now, would be more added strain that I simply cannot bare the burden of. I am at the mercy of fate now, should a stick snap and send its echoes rampaging through the pattern before me…

What looks like nothing more than a large mess of twining threads in the air before me, -although it is likely that only the two other women with me in this sanctuary now are able to see it out of the entire city- can very well destroy me if a single note ends out of place. What I am weaving now, I can only liken too a fishing net, but one made out of hundreds of yards of painstakingly made lace, spun of silk threads so fine they may snap at the slightest mishandling.

Perhaps not a net in truth; but at the very least a cocoon. Perhaps that makes it even harder to spin than a net…

So like a tapestry and a puzzle in one, I continue to strum delicately at the instrument in my arms, the cold of the sanctuary waters making my feet go numb as I have my eyes closed. Spells are woven with one's mind, not their eyes, and I hold my breath at times as I can feel portions of the pattern before me tightening into solid patches. It's like weaving the separate patches of a quilt before sewing them all together for the end product.

I can picture it in my mind, the swirling threads of the harp's song descending down towards the focus of their magic. How fitting it is that it in truth is akin to the death shroud draped across those laid to rest in tombs… What a relief it is, that though the delicate threads of the pattern strain themselves, not a single one snaps as I continue warily to tighten it together, and settle it across the body of the Hero whom has put the well being of others over himself. It would not be right of me to leave his soul so unfulfilled in death…

_'Undo his time, old friend, and I shall use thee only once more, and then only to find the one whom may set me free…' _

How dangerous it is, to simply undo the force of age upon a person still among the living. To weave the power of time about one person and they alone, undoing the work of Time, removing and rewinding that which has been done. In theory it is of course possible, yet in practice, it is the most dangerous and fool-hardy of any an Oracle's abilities.

And yet here I stand, weaving that pattern in its most complicated state, asking the gods themselves to give back that which is there's to take on a whim. His life has always been merely a tool to the three Mothers of the heavens, simply a doll which would have been better off with no will or wishes at all, for it would have led him to less pain.

For an Oracle with powers fading such as mine, to chose now to stray into the domain of death is more than foolhardy. The cycle of Life and Death are directly linked with that of Time, for they together are what keep the world truly solid, and when disrupted is what causes the sorts of wide-spread wounds which bread the Oracles themselves.

The chaos of paradox and flaunted deaths is what breeds the black magic which scars souls so terribly. When mortals first strayed into the realms of Death to escape its cold draw, that was what let loose the magic across generations which resulted in the deep wounds such as the one Din's soul bares, the dark seeds as that nestled against Farore's heart, and souls thrust from their times and from their mates, as mine was during the cycle of rebirth…

I am taking perhaps the greatest risk any mortal being may. And if I should lose my grip and fail in this act I cannot say how many like myself I will have damned to lives of scaring wounds and painful isolation…

Do I mean it when I say that this will be the last I ask of the Harp of Ages, until the moment I am able to finally reach the soul which calls out to me across time? Somehow, I find myself wondering as to the integrity of my own answer as this question comes to me unbidden despite the strain already plaguing my mind. I can feel myself wrestling with the Harp in my arms, the instrument was one crafted by the gods to return lost souls such as I to our proper homes. This dangerous act of mine goes against it's basic instincts, I can feel it asking me this question though, over and over again, seeking a solid answer, needing to know.

Will this be my final act as the Oracle of Ages, if his time is undone, and the Hero of Time walks again..?

… Yes.

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**REXNOS PLEASE DON'T HURT ME. I know I killed him, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up, please, don't hurt me, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. **

**If you promise not to hurt me, I'll get the next chapter up very quick-like, sound good? Granted, the Playoffs are well underwa-PLEASE I SWEAR DON'T HURT ME.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Well, I promised a speedy update but a recent music change led to many a long hour spent sitting glassy-eyed at the computer. Meh, fluff does that to me anyways. **

**The Fairy I selected for this chapter was the one from Twilight Princess, since in OoT they were green with pointy chests, the Oracle games had misshapen pink blobs with huge lips, and they were purple with six arms in Wind Waker. **

**Yay for Avril Lavigne. **

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 29

I can feel it… The warmth of the sun dancing across my face, fey golden light broken up by the leaves so far overhead. Somewhere I can hear the soft trill of summer birds, the soft splashes of water as the scent of new growth and life curl around me like a warm embrace.

I'm in her gardens again, how many afternoons have I spent here, dozing under the wisteria? I don't think I can count that high… The light spiraling through the leaves overhead is soothing to watch, and I feel as though I'm floating with only the gentle sigh of a summer breeze rustling past me. Her gardens should be larger, I dislike always being able to see the stone of castle walls, but I suppose it would be a bit difficult for her to expand it anymore than it has been since we were children.

Dimly, I wonder just what time it is, the sun shining brightly but at an angle which those intrusive walls should block it. Well, I suppose that isn't really important, my sleepy gaze being drawn from the sparkling greenery overhead towards the golden figure sitting next to me.

In this light, she really does look like gold, the sun shining behind her to form a corona, gentle rays twirling through her hair like tiny yellow ribbons. Her smooth oval face is washed with that golden light, like an angel standing in the twilight. I find myself trying to smile for her, my reward being to watch as her rose-coloured lips quirk up in the corners with a hint of amusement.

It's different, seeing her hair unbound and unadorned, or at least both at the same time. Of course, I've been privy to a few of her less royal moments, so I've seen the Princess at her worst, but this is different. No dirt is scuffed across her cheeks, no frustrated tears or unsightly splotches from a fraying temper marring her features. At the same time, there are no signs of powder across her face, no rouge on her lips to alter their colour.

She's close to me now, very close, leaning over me the way she did that one afternoon in the gardens, one of the many times when Ralph was sitting with us. She was picking bits of grass and leaves from my tunic and hair at the time, but I was so startled by the act that… I almost choked…

An aching sensation in my chest is what reminds me to breathe, although I find myself unable to take anything more than the shallowest of gasps. My mind feels muddled, thoughts sluggish as the tips of her fingers brush against my skin, pushing my bangs away for a moment. Her eyes, they're such a deep, tender blue, like the inner glow of sapphires. I feel a tingle run down my spine as she gently strokes my brow where I can remember feeling a splitting pain before, but now it's gone.

Hesitantly, I try to whisper her name, but find my mouth so dry that my tongue is stuck firmly behind my teeth. She can see what I'm trying to do though, still smiling at me as I feel the soft pad of her thumb press gently down over my lips, her fingers resting against the side of my face.

This… this is one of my closest friends, someone whom I've dedicated so many hours to speaking with and trying to outwit. Years ago, she was a symbol to me and little more, magic colouring her haunted eyes crimson, her golden purity dampened by sorrow. She became a symbol of all I sought to change, a reason to continue forwards through shadowed caves and across the barren earth…

And when that hellish world never came to pass, she became one of the few people who ever welcomed me into a place I could call home. Where else had I to go before her letters brought be back before the King? As a child I was cast from the village where I'd never truly belonged too begin with. Even if they'd had names, my parents have been dead since I was too small for words.

Until that point, my feet only seemed to lead me into trouble, be it through those same mysterious woods, or hundreds of miles away. And for years I could walk in only one direction which always led to the same things; danger, and then her. No matter which direction I turned; to the north, to the east, our paths would only continue to cross. When she offered me the choice of continuing to wander the countryside, or settling into the comforts of the upper class with her, what choice was it really? Fate likely would have just kept calling me back to her…

In the years since then, I have come across many friends of good morals and character, but she was still the first, still the one who opened all of those doors for me.

Every moment I've ever felt as though I'd found a home, ever thought I was content with what life had given me, I have only her to thank. For I've only ever found my home within hers. Without her I would have nothing more than a horse and an emptying purse, no warm bed awaiting me, no squire following me, no steady meals or rowdy companions. In fact, without her ever entering my life, never, not once at all… then there would be no life at all of which to speak. No heroic adventures, no titles or songs, nothing but a nameless orphan whose father was a nameless man…

So if her lips on mine is a dream… Then I don't want to wake up, and the '_Lord of Faron Fief'_ can skewer himself for all that I so deeply care…

* * *

_Nayru, the Oracle of Ages who lived during the resurrection of the Ambi House unwove the death of the Hero of Time. _

I let out a sharp breath with my pen still touching the page of the book in my arms. The ivory tool has an emerald nub shaped into the form of any normal metal piece, but no ink chamber I've ever discovered. Instead, when touched to the surface of the Book of Secrets, it deposits a single swirling droplet of emerald ink onto the page which lasts as long as I continue to write.

Somehow, unlike normal pens with their black and blue inks, or a more practical quill, stilling my hand on the pages does not result in the same ugly splotches of runny colour. This feature is of great comfort to me as I sit here mulling the wording I wish to use for this entry. I have a keen feeling that I should add a particularly scathing comment about the foolishness of this act, as I have seen done with other historical notations pertaining to very unwise choices being made.

Deciding against the comment however; any attempts to sound witty would likely be lost on whoever will take up the tome in my hands searching for past travesties committed by the Trinity. Besides, I have been told many times that I tend to drain the life out of stories when retelling them, most especially when emphasizing strong bias.

Shutting the large volume on my lap, I slip the ivory pen into the pouch at my belt before sliding the tome to the floor next to my chair. Stifling a yawn, I rub at one eye slightly as I've seen others do when tired. Well, it doesn't really make sense to press on one's eyeball as a sign of fatigue, so stop trying and blink a bit to remove the red and black spots from my vision.

"You are a fool, Nayru." I state simply, looking over the exhausted form of the woman currently using my bed. The popular term would likely be to describe her as being _'out like a light'_, but since she was never in flames to begin with, I don't see the sense in such a saying.

Modesty is another social oddity which I don't quiet see the significance of, although of course even I would be aware of the unpleasantness of being addressed by someone without a stitch of clothing. However, if I am to be torn between ridding my friend of her extremely unsanitary attire or replacing my bed sheets after allowing her to rest in my home, well, the answer should be relatively simple. I'm considering burying the soiled articles somewhere or finding a pit to toss them in since burning them would likely result in a most unpleasant stench. When she awakens she may wear something of mine until I find the time to make the half-day trek out through the woods to her home to fetch something of her own. That she's a head taller than me is simply an obstacle which needs be either overlooked or dealt with.

For now however, there is another matter weighing on me, and I silently rise from the bedside of the other oracle as I can hear an annoyed whining noise humming through the air here beneath the tree. Leaving Nayru's covered form to continue regaining her strength; I take up the small candle which has been sitting at her side for a while now and begin walking back towards the entrance.

My home under the Maku Tree is split into three separate areas by her thick wall-like roots. The low hall where I conduct my business is the first chamber any visitors see, and is normally the only one. There is a staircase in the back which leads up, all the way towards the Maku Tree's crown where the fairy colony lives amongst the leaves and morning dew. However, there is also a second doorway at the base of those stairs; it dips down a bit before leading into the small area where I am now, my sleeping quarters, a second door across from the bed leads to my even smaller cooking area.

As a part of the agreement for my living here, I have always kept the fire in that kitchen exceedingly small, even in winter. Small, well covered, and with plenty of water on hand in case of any accidents.

Moving through the hall now, the daylight beyond the small portal shimmers slightly with oncoming morning, the third day now dawning since Nayru and Link appeared within the sanctuary, and since Nayru wove the sound of the harp around his body in such a way so as to give him back a few more minutes of his time.

I wonder; does Nayru know she was singing as she strummed on the Harp of Ages in such a way that it all but destroyed her? She has always had the makings of a great bard within her, able to retell any tale by painting the vivid images of a story in the minds of those who listen to her. To hear her sing that late night however, when her words were lost in the mix of the Harp's magic and only the sound of her voice shone through, it was as though the entire world were holding it's breath for her, the gods stilling the waters and the winds so as to bar any intrusions on her song.

After that gossamer curtain fell over his body and she undid the actions of a few dire minutes, I remember how I had to practically dive forwards to catch her as she collapsed in a graceless heap. Even now, I don't know what became of the Harp, as her voice tapered off with the final notes, it was still within the circle of her arms, but as her eyes rolled back and her knees dropped, it was gone.

The task of saving the Hero's life did not fall to me, but rather the fairies abruptly roused from slumber as –with the spell's end and the bane of silence lifted- the Maku Tree began to shake her upper limbs and cause a terrible ruckus. All that I was required for was the grisly task of wrenching the thick black bolt from his shoulder as the shrieking orbs of glittering light swirled in the air and cast their ghostly light across the water and the leaves in a dream-like whirl.

In the end, his condition has proven too dire for the mediocre treatment of the healing sprites; one of their Queens from the forests in the west was called to come late last night. I'm almost positive now that the low whining noises from the Maku Tree are being caused by said Queen even now.

While the average sprite is perhaps small enough to sit on my shoulder, or even stand up halfway to my knees, their Queens are much larger, the size of normal human women. Of course, they of course still maintain the wings and sharp features of their smaller sisters, and also dress in a very similar manner, meaning they hardly dress at all. Perhaps the only difference to be found in a Queen Fairy opposed to a smaller sprite -aside from the scope of their abilities- would be their fascination with men. Preferably young, handsome ones.

Setting my candle on a small ledge just inside the doorway to my home, I step out into the golden dawn light and look around for a moment. As I had suspected, the presence of the Fairy Queen is very much the cause of the Guardian Tree's distress.

The Tree's face is hidden in the curves and contours of her trunk, but after having known her for so long it is quite simple for me to not only find her face, but to notice the pinched, sour expression across it. If she were coloured differently than the bark that is her skin, her cheeks and brow would appear as the smooth, youthful face of a young woman, that is one of the few respects in which Deku and Maku trees differ, the former normally with features protruding out a ways with easily discernable features, but the guardians of Hollodrum and Labrynna have their faces hidden from untrained eyes.

"How frustrating, who is this _Zell-dah_ he keeps calling too?" The bare back of the Fairy Queen is faced towards me, her long golden hair flowing down but pulled over her shoulders, likely forming the only means of coverage for her front. A sash of aquarium green is tied with a questionably loose knot over her hip, but for me the most mesmerizing part of her appearance are her wings.

Many say that I cannot appreciate true beauty, and although I do not know how accurate that may be, I do have a keen memory for what people call the more lovely things in life. Did you know that at dawn, with spring dew covering them, spider webs glow with all the colours of the rainbow? Not many know that blades of grass are lined with hair-fine tracks like tiny roads.

The wings of a Fairy Queen and her smaller sisters are exactly the same, but only with the larger specimen can one truly see them. Her wings are split into halves, giving her four in all; they look similar to deformed butterfly wings, only without the garish patterns. Instead, they make me think of the rainbow film of soap bubbles in the sunlight, shimmering with all colours and a tiny golden glow. Her wings even maintain that soft delicacy of a bubble, making one afraid that if she moves to quickly, they'll vanish into tiny droplets of soap.

"Perhaps you should just let him sleep for now." The Maku Tree's earthen voice is decidedly tight as she replies to the Queen, who I can now see is coddling the slumbering Hero against her shoulder like a babe. I understand the Guardian's distress now.

"Nonsense! Look at the poor dear," She looks like a sort of goddess in the golden light of the dawn, although the brilliance of it is beginning to fade as the minutes slip past. Regardless, the flawless tan of her fingers make her hands appear as gold as she strokes his chin gently, and although I cannot see them from here, I know that as she touches him soft sparkles of energy are settling themselves into him. "He's so pale from his wounds; perhaps I should take him home with me…"

"_You should_ _do no such thing!!_" I can hear the sanctuary waters splashing somewhat with her very loud reply, but the sleeping man doesn't seem to notice in the slightest.

"Such modesty, Great Maku Tree! But what would a creature such as yourself understand of such things?" As the wooden face begins to scrunch up in a very meaningful way, perhaps now would be a good time to intervene.

"He is calling the name of his Princess." I state the golden woman turning her head to me as the Maku Tree simply tenses and relaxes her roots in aggravation. "And it would perhaps be best for him to remain here, Queen Xelha. Your woods can be challenging to navigate." Especially when you decide not to return the handsome young men who catch your eye…

"Ah, but why have a Princess when a Queen is more than willing to attend to his needs?" I can't tell if she is chiding me or not but she continues speaking before I may reply, "In any light, as you know, unlike my little sisters, my abilities work most potently through touch…" I bring my hands up and press my palms to my ears hoping to protect them, the Fairy Queen lifting one hand as she turns her swirling sapphire and emerald gaze back to the man in her arms, making to brush that curtain of golden hair away and over her shoulder. Mind you, in the few moments of conversation she hasn't yet materialized another article of clothing to accompany that slipping sash…

"**_XELHA!!!_**"

Regardless of my precaution, I am left with a ringing sensation in my ears, and am silently thankful that a potent mixture of herbs and fairy magic have sufficiently locked Link into his healing sleep.

* * *

Shutting my book closed with a forceful snap, I regret the force used as the sound comes back at me like pointed needles in my scalp. Messaging my temples with one hand, I shift uneasily in the plush covers of my bed, my left arm lying cramped and sore next to me. 

I've hard a terrible pain in both my mind and arm since late afternoon a few days ago, although I wish the discomfort had come to me more subtly. One moment all I can recall is finally catching sight of Ralph in the hallway, and settling it within myself to speak with him truthfully about all of this foolish business.

But of course, the moment I took a step towards him, wanting to catch his attention with one hand raised, a golden sparkle shimmered across the back of my hand. Stunned, I can remember how my words nearly choked me as my vision shimmered a pale china blue for an instant, and by the next I was here within my chambers, Impa fluttering along my bedside impatiently to tell me I'd fainted in a shimmering golden light.

Well, my arm and hand have been sore since then, a pain similar to leaving one's hand exposed to the cold so long that it can't be felt, but hurts just the same. A rampaging headache has also accompanied me closely, and reading the cramped text of my book is at times to strenuous for me. And I could hardly stomach the wedding plans to begin with…

The idea of being cornered here in my chambers again with the other noblewomen my age, it's a stifling thought. I was certain I was going to suddenly burst into tears at one point, frustrated as I am by the pain in my head and arm, but more importantly the deep pit that keeps opening in my stomach at the thought of wedding bells. By Nayru's love, I'm such a fool for having tangled myself in my own emotions so terribly…

When I fainted in the halls, the touch of the gods grazing my mind gently, all I could see was a moonlit glade. I saw two women standing there, and for a moment I didn't understand what I was seeing as one stood there strumming a bejeweled harp tenderly. It seemed so strange to me, to sing in the middle of the night, up to their ankles in clear moonlit water.

But then I took notice of the cloths one of them wore, the state of them, and how the silvery lines of tears were painted down her cheeks through layers of grime. I can't pretend that even then I knew what was happening, it wasn't until I could see a glassy blue film begin to weave itself together in the air that I realized what in part was going on.

At first, I thought he was asleep… until a sickly dread welled up within me. That was when the waking world called to me again, and I remember that even as Impa explained what had happened to me, I could do nothing more than sit there on my bed and cry shamelessly. Blessedly, although I could all but feel the disapproval in her cold eyes, she kept her thoughts silence, and left me in my misery…

He is not dead however, even though my vision held such a sad tone to it that it's difficult to imagine much else. In truth, I don't know how I would be able to take such damning news as his death… I miss him deeply enough already, I can't believe for a moment that he won't return home, it's simply a matter of waiting for him.

Of course, as my closer friends know quite well, I dislike waiting with nothing to occupy me in the meantime. It leads to wandering thoughts, and my mind has been to dark lately too allow for that. My self-pity has begun to reach a level even I am put off by, my patience wearing thin at my own disposition and my apparent lack of ability to bring myself out of this stupor…

As though this thought alone is a hand at my ear, I finally begin pushing away the thin summer quilts of my bedding, suppressing a shudder at the idea of having to very soon share a similar arrangement with Ralph. It is not that I dislike him of course, I certainly don't think him a poor man or unworthy of whatever honor being married is supposed to bring, he just isn't… my first choice… Then again, he isn't my choice at all, so perhaps that is the answer right there…

I don't want to call Impa or another maid right now, feeling my mind continue along its winding train of thought. It's getting on in the evening by now, but I dress myself anyways, shying away from a tight corset which would of course require summoning another woman to fit into. Instead, I take advantage of the warm weather, searching through my wardrobe a moment before finding a pleasant dress of green silk, a misty colour mixing calm teal in with the earthen shade. Slipping out of my nightgown since I've been abed for most of the day, I toss a silk shift over my head before climbing into the whispering material.

It's a simple outfit by any and all accounts, a fluttering ruffle of grey green covering my shoulders but leaving my arms bare. The fit of the dress is very loose, allowing the metallic blues and greens to shimmer in the candlelight like pristine water. There are traces of embroidery in the form of pale green vines along the bodice and climbing up on side of my leg from the fluttering hem, but it's minimal. The neckline is modestly high, only coming just below the hollow of my throat, but soon I know it will be improper for me to wear anything lower than halfway up my actual neck. The same is to be said for my arms, married women cover every inch of unnecessary skin, from ankles to wrists to chin, summer, winter, spring and fall…

I ignore the soreness of my arm as I comb my hair swiftly; not braiding it as I normally would, but instead twisting the golden lengths up into a tight bundle at the base of my neck, pinning it in place and biting my lip sharply as my unpracticed hand drives the pins into scalp instead of just hair. To make matters worse, I take up a sheer silk scarf of a green which doesn't quite match that of my gown, and pin that over my hair as well. Again, the modesty of a soon to be married woman…

I slip on a pair of simple silver earrings, and finally crown my shrouded hair with the loop of my tiara. For all that I merely want to wander the halls and move for a little while -the evening meal is already long past- there is always so much preparation to be done first. Thankfully, in the low light of the candle-lit halls now that the sun is setting, no one but those who ram their faces into the sides of my head will be able to tell that the silk covering my hair does not match my dress perfectly. The long green gloves I pull up to my elbows are another matter however, since they came with the gown, and also have the slightest addition of scrawling vines along the seams hugging the insides of my arms.

Moving through my chambers, Impa is not here but instead has her position filled by one of the various young maids of the castle. She isn't dressed in the red skirts and white apron of just any other maid though; instead the edges of her cloths are all stitched with gold thread. And under the white of her apron her tunic and skirt are a mellow blue, a golden rendition of my father's hawk is stitched into the fabric over her heart. The style of her uniform may be similar to the other maids in the palace, but the change in colour and alterations to the apron mark her as one of my closer attendants.

At her startled look where she was dozing in one of the thickly upholstered chairs of my antechamber, I lift one hand to still her as she makes to leap to her feet. Of course, she still stands and performs a low curtsey, murmuring some soft apology for nearly falling asleep while attending me, but I don't mind in the least. Instead, I nod to her silently, forcing myself to smile softly as I turn towards my door and leave. As I expected, her soft footfalls follow me out into the darkened corridors. Normally it's Impa who trails me through the castle, but no one expected me to rise so late in the evening again, so I can understand if she went off to attend to duties elsewhere.

I don't quite know where I'm headed, passing a few members of the court as my slippered feet whisper across the alternating stone and carpet of the halls. I hardly pause to nod silently as the occasional group of courtiers stops for a quick bend at the knees before continuing on with their evening plans. After a few minutes and a number of turns, these tight knots of nobility begin to pop up less frequently, lords and ladies escorting friends to their chambers to settle into evening talks.

If my attendant is curious as to where I'm headed, well, so am I, although only vaguely. She knows not to disturb me now with her concerns of course, simply shadowing my steps accordingly. She slows as I do as I take a moment now and then to look over a particular painting on the walls, or review a vase standing on a ledge or table top. The palace is always so calm in the evenings, and moving through the halls allows me time to both think and keep myself seen. I've been so… weak, lately.

But honestly, have I not made the promise since my girlhood to one day rule as Queen of Hyrule? Why should the absence of one knight grind my entire day to a complete halt? I won't fool myself by saying it has nothing to do with Link's call of duty; it's been weeks now since he vanished beyond the temple doors, and I'm still as fretful as I was that same afternoon. My betrothal only complicates matters.

I push the dream-shrouded image of his pale face from my mind, letting loose a particularly loud sigh at the same time, and earning myself a very quick look from the maid following me. Frowning, I perhaps ought to smile at her to show that I'm alright, but instead make as though to look distastefully over the wilting blooms in the vase before me. White roses; the edges of their velvet petals are going yellow and brown along the edges, their thorn-less stems vanishing into a pearly white vase marked with the symbol of the Zora people. I grow the same bloom in my garden, but what with all the talk of their being used as accents on that cursed wedding gown… I'd rather not look at them at all, much less when they're dying.

I should by now be making the few subtle turns to bring myself back towards my own chambers, but continue forwards even as the corners come up. I both know where I'm headed as well as I don't, forcefully snapping my eyes up ahead of me as they threaten to drift down towards the carpet before me. Nonsense, wandering my own home without company is bad enough; I'll not do so with my eyes downcast as though I'm ashamed of myself! Even as I can feel a heavy weight settling itself across my shoulders like a thick cloak, I smooth my face of any troubling expression, and keep my eyes firmly ahead.

Rounding another corner, I'm well within the more lived in wing of the castle now, doors randomly placed along the corridors for the various lower nobility who make their homes here. My father's stewards and most of the palace's live-in officials such as Sir Ladekhan have their chambers in this part of the castle. Of course, I'm not here to visit Sir Ladkehan, and although he isn't even here, I stifle another sigh as I know I'm headed for the rooms of one of his knights…

Now, it's not as though I intend to waltz through Link's chambers while he isn't here. That would not only be rude and spark Nayru-knows how many troublesome rumors, but it would also be completely without point. Why would I want to do something so stupid? It isn't like the training grounds where I may stand in a window looking down on my father's knights. Where I can review each of the men who have the fairer colouring, expecting one with a particular shine in his hair to come along and engage in a few exercises. And it's nothing like the stables where I may tend to my own mare while looking about as if to expect Epona and her master to come in from an afternoon ride, or invite me with him a similar outing.

Goddesses know, I don't think any of us will ever see Epona again unless it's with Link astride her. The poor creature was frantic within the stables in the days following his summons. I can't say I was at all surprised when Maser Falon reported to my father that the horse had broken away from their small caravan and bolted out across the many wilds of the countryside.

Actually, I think the only one who was more understanding than me was my father. Epona was bred from his old war stallion, which despite his prowess and ability in battle -it was the same steed which bore my father through his rise to power. A mighty beast indeed to have lived so long!- had little success bringing about a next generation. Epona was foaled the year her sire finally took his leave, and was every bit as wild as my father remembers Kitchta to have been when a young colt. Only my father could ever ride that great beast of an animal, -although I only ever knew him as the sleepy grey preening himself in the stables- and only Link can control Epona.

Well, this isn't the stables, or a window from the second floor. This is a hallway with very few distractions… but…

The doors to Link's chambers are of the same dark, heavy wood as every other set within the palace. Double doors, but not so grand so as to be a bother, no one wants to feel as though they're entering a council room when retiring for the night. Some lords have a crest carved into their doors, most of the other knights are from noble lineage and have their family crests put on, or simply inherit from a relative. Link's is the only door which has no ornate image across it, only the image of the Triforce, lacking any of the symbols so often associated with him. The Goddess Farore, the Kokiri- although in truth, he prefers to disregard most mention of the forest sprites, even I know little about his life as a young child. His titles as the Hero of Time and Seasons are also ignored; he even shrugged off the brief idea of placing my father's crest on the door, since he's taken his knighthood fairly seriously since coming of age.

Still, it makes finding his chambers that much easier. But really, for every afternoon we've spent in my gardens, at least one out of every three of those daytime conversations has led to long visits in one another's chambers come the evening time.

Oh, Nayru I'm a fool. There was no point in coming this way, just as there's been no reason in wasting my time watching sweaty men swing wooden sticks like swords training themselves for battle during peacetime. I've brushed down my horse more times in the past few weeks than I can ever remember doing before, and it certainly hasn't made one speck of difference. I keep wishing he was here with me, but honestly, even if he was, what makes me think anything would be different?

Nothing. That's what would be different. Absolutely nothing. I would have him here to speak with, someone to talk myself hoarse around, but in the end nothing would be different. I might feel a bit better afterwards, might be more comfortable in my own skin. But at the end of the day those wedding plans would still need to be confirmed, I'd still be a Princess, and I'd still be promised…

Perhaps Impa _is_ right about me, perhaps I am just spoiled. What is wrong with Ralph, really, what is it? He's a good man, he's strong and smart and has a good heart, he isn't ignorant and knows when he's in over his head, but he doesn't quit. If I want to be vain, I can even remind myself that not only is he close to my age –a blessing few other betrothed women can count on- and certainly isn't ugly. He is a good, honest man. Sensible. He will make a good king.

Yes, King. I swallow hard to keep bile from rising in my throat at the thought, but it's true, isn't it? I'm going to marry him, and there is no getting around it. Not without shaming myself and both of our countries, not without unraveling everything he's trying so hard to put together. Am I really cruel enough to crush all of his dreams just for a pair of china blue eyes?

As I pass by his door, I let the tips of my fingers gently, almost not, graze the lengths of the unadorned surface. To the casual observer, I'm simply allowing my hand to trail behind me gracefully, as a lady should. Why though? How can a door make me feel better about the cards I've been dealt?

I should just be grateful my father did not tie me down to a man Sir Ladkehan's age…

That thought, it takes hardly a moment for it to settle upon me; adding to the weight on my shoulders as though led were being stitched into the seams of that imaginary cloak. I can feel my features freezing over at the idea. Is this why, in so many portraits, Kings and Queens look so strict? Why in poems they walk with such a stately grace? I can feel my chin coming up proudly, my eyes gazing ahead unseeing, trying to imagine the added strain of a gold-laden crown resting precariously atop my brow. Is this what my dreams of being Queen will one day lead me to?

Well, if that is what I am to be led too, then I know that it is a future which is still a ways off from me. Beyond the door which is now just past me, a very loud, heavy _thunk _sounds, followed by a muffled yelp and then a loud shout. The unexpectedness of noise within an emptied room snaps me from my reverie, causing me to jump slightly as I hear the woman following me give a muffled yelp of surprise. No, I'm not just hearing things, there's someone in that room.

"They aren't cleaning the Hero's unused rooms, are they?" I ask absently, unsure of how to address the servants when asking one of their own, but as I turn back towards the dark doors I catch sight of her shaking her head quickly.

"No, Majesty. They'd be dusted of course, but not so late in the evening time…" Mulling over this for a moment, yet another loud bump is like a slight nudge at my back. Closing my gloved hands over the brass handles, I give a sharp twist and swing them open. At the sight which greets me of course, there's little more to say than what flies past my lips a mere moment later.

"Just **what** in Din's Fires are you _doing!?_"

* * *

**Hehe, cliffy. ****Meh, so I didn't get it up that fast, but at least I got it up and at a decent length this time too! I actually don't mind Xelha that much, but I thought it was high time I threw her name in here too, eh? **

**GAH! STUPID SIMS UNIVERSITY! IT KILLED THE RELATIONSHIPS IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD! SHIT! I must now go cry and figure out how to reacquaint children with their parents, siblings, and friends… **


	30. Chapter 30

**I really ought to have mentioned this last chapter but forgot: the name Xelha is pronounced _'shell-ah'_, I'm just so used to seeing it in Baten Kaitos that I forgot how hard it can be to read. And, although it can load painfully slowly, Tales of the Abyss for the PS2 is an _amazing_ game, far better than Tales of Symphonia.**

**I've now hit thirty chapters and thanks to Necro30 I can't stop thinking about the ending to not only THIS story, but its sequel; Time and Again... for which she now also knows most of the more evil bits. **

**Enjoy.**

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* * *

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter 30

My Lord's chambers are not the most decorated in the castle. Many lords and ladies keep glass cases on their walls to hold delicate works of art such as crystal and glass figurines or fragile sculptures. And they also have large wall curtains of vibrant silks and mesmerizing tapestries. The style now of course also seems to be to have as many curves and contours to the furniture as possible, and to have it all stained remarkably pale.

Now, my Lord's chambers are not quite like this, although there are of course practical reasons for wall hangings as they keep the drafts out in winter. However, my Lord shies away from the silks more than most other nobles, preferring to have wool cover the bare stone walls of his rooms. He has no paintings or glass casings in his apartments.

When he is actually within the castle, then the thick woolen curtains over his windows are always pulled wide open to allow the sunlight to shine in and illuminate the room. One of his windows –a gift from the Princess Zelda one year- is made of stained glass, and depicts a massive tree I assume is supposed to represent the Great Deku Tree of the Kokiri woods.

Although it may seem predictable of him, my Lord's rooms are also fairly green, and despite the shade being quite dark, his apartments always have a light feeling to them, like walking through a forest I suppose. Area rugs of green and brown are laid down apparently at random throughout his ante chamber under seats chosen for their comfort over their appearance. All of the wood is darkly stained and polished, not a speck of gilt to be found on any of it as carvings are also few and far between.

My lords bedchamber also showcases his simple tastes, most of the furniture including his bed sporting straight lines and darker colours, his own quilt is little more than just brown wool, of impeccable quality of course, but I don't think it's even dyed. The sheer curtains of his bed are also just plain white, and aren't of lace, but just sheer cotton.

As stated, when my Lord is here, the dark colours and hard lines of his room do not hold any imposing feels. The scent of spiced wood and earth is always to be found within his apartments, and has come to be soothing for me over the months when I end up having to settle down to the assignments given to me by my teachers.

But after weeks of his absence, I cannot say that this same comforting feel remains. In fact, for a moment as I creak open the door and slip inside the antechamber, I almost fear I've entered the wrong set of rooms all together. Most people, whether they're within the castle or not, entering their chambers gives an immediate sense of them, and you can see hints of them everywhere, even feel it in the air. Well, that is not the case with my Lord; his rooms now feel barren and empty of his presence, similar to those of a dead man- and that thought alone is enough to send a shiver down my spine!

Every few days a maid or someone else will enter these chambers to dust them, but they leave the curtains shut tightly against the daylight when they leave. But that simple absence itself enough to unsettle me. I crush the urge to shyly call out in the silent chambers; as though my Lord would hear me for all that he's possibly worlds away by this point.

In truth, even as my Lord's squire, I shouldn't be in here. I'm not yet at the point in my training where I share these apartments with my Lord, using the small and currently unused room which connects to these ones. Since he is absent from the castle now, I have no real reason to be in here, and thus if I'm caught, I'll need some sort of excuse for my presence.

Regrettably, although I very well do have a reason to enter, I've yet to come up with a feasible explanation to give anyone else. Of course, my personal reason is rather simple, although a bit odd in itself. Ever since hearing about that castle near the edge of the Faron woods… well, my Lord is from that area, and has traveled through it many, many times. Not only that, but he also has the keen eye and hand of a map maker, is it so wrong for me to simply wish to look over a few of his maps? I'm only curious…

Well, of course, the answer to that question is a very simple yes. To go through my Lord's personal effects while he is not here? Of course it's wrong! Even now, standing here in the doorway, I know it's wrong, and I shouldn't be doing this!

But, again, really… My Lord never keeps anything from me, not even his assignments from His Majesty, things which should be completely confidential. He has even encouraged my curiosity before, offered me different maps of his to review for my tasks and innate need to know the _'where'_s and the _'how'_s. I'm almost positive that, were he here right now, I could ask him and have him just smile the way he always does before gesturing for me to follow him to his desk and watch him flip through the various folds of parchment and hide to find what I'm curious about.

Of course, being almost positive isn't quite the same as being absolutely certain…

As his squire, I ought to have been the one who tidied up my Lord's chambers after he was summoned to the Temple of Time, but due to my injury and Mistress Impa's temper with me, the task fell to someone else. As a result of this, as I approach my Lord's writing desk, I feel a hint of irritation at how improperly the task was carried out. Quills don't go in the left drawer, they're kept in the second one on the right, and you don't stack ink bottles so carelessly, in fact, one of them doesn't look like it's even _closed_.

Ignoring my irritation, I put off rearranging the contents of my Lord's desk properly, quickly going for one of the wider drawers and pulling it out with a slight groan from the wooden components. During my lord's escapades, he hasn't always had the luxury of fine parchments and quality inks for his sketches and maps. As a result of this, although his work itself is well done, the materials often compromise the quality of the finished product. Over the years he's redrawn some of them, normally those he drew onto paper because of the abuse they took due to weather and water as he traveled, but overall not many of them have been completed.

The one I want was actually drawn onto the back of a small wooden shield my Lord once carried before being granted his knight's shield. Of course, he eventually copied it onto a piece of thick parchment, and that's what I'm looking for now. Blessedly, whoever mucked up putting away the writing materials didn't do anything foolish with the maps, although as I carefully finger through the thick stack, they seem out of order…

Wait, where is it? Blinking, I start from the beginning and thumb through the alternating hide and parchment maps again, trying to keep my touch gentle even as I feel a bit of anxiety bubble up within me. Before me various landscapes flash past as I flip through the maps, not all of the locations are even Hylian, the eastern land of Hollodrum appearing in sections, even a fully detailed image of Labrynna, the Prince's home. The insides of various caverns and caves, temples abandoned since the war years ago, they're all here, but not the one I want.

Where is the map of the Faron Woods? The one that should include-

"A-hem." Oh bugger. "Is it proper for a Squire to rifle through his Master's drawers?"

Turning as fast as I dare, the drawer I was looking through obediently snaps shut with a nudge from my casted arm. However, I can feel the blood which so suddenly drained from my face at the voice behind me come surging back up to my ears. It's embarrassing to have them burn so, but don't let myself get caught up on that just now.

"You!" I shout, "Just what are you doing in my Lord's chambers!?" It's only a moment later that I realize I spoke perhaps a tad too loudly, forgetting that I'm not supposed to be here either.

Standing just in the doorway leading to my Lord's bedchamber is Lady Elise, her blonde ringlets tied in two bunches at the sides of her head and kept in place with pale blue ribbons. Her girlish frock matches the colour of the ribbons, or maybe it's supposed to be the other way around. Regardless, she's still here and if I'm not supposed to be in here, then I don't know where _she_ found the gall to sneak in!

"Doing? I'm not doing anything. I've only just caught Sir Link's squire disrespecting his Lord's property." It takes all my will not to suddenly go pale at the thought of the trouble I'll be in if I'm found here by Sir Kalas, the taskmaster for all us squires… But I quickly regain myself. After all, she didn't just enter; if she came from the bedroom then she clearly arrived first!

"What's that behind your back?" I accuse sharply, noting how she has her hands both held behind her. Her back straightens light a board at the accusation, her eyes momentarily widening before narrowing again, her nose and mouth scrunching up in a very un-lady-like way.

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" I almost laugh at the crimson that comes flashing across her pudgy cheeks, but that reaction is swiftly crushed with a surge of anger.

"You lie!"

"Do not!"

"Then show me your hands!" For a moment, there's a tense silence between us, I can feel the air charging with energy, her pale green eyes darting between myself and the door to my- wait, door- she- _NO!_

A girl's frock is different from a woman's gown, mainly in that the hem for a girl comes down just above her ankles. Of course, I don't spend my time analyzing how noble ladies dress, but this detail comes to me in a flash as the pale blue of Lady Savyna's troublesome daughter darts across my lord's chamber, heading straight for the door.

If I'd had a moment more to think, I might've acted differently. As it stands now, the moment a rolled up scroll becomes visible where it's clutched in Lady Elise's tiny hand, I completely forget the prefix on her name just as swiftly as I ignore the cast on my arm.

The next I'm aware of, my arms are firmly around her waist, my feet aren't touching the ground, and the ground is coming at me very quickly...

* * *

Sighing, I look down at the torn parchment in my hands, shaking my head dismally as with only the light of a single candle sitting on Link's desk, I can make out the old ink marks outlining the Faron woods several days ride to the south. The tear is complete, both ends crumpled shamelessly by the two children sitting in front of me, my maid sitting between the two of them on Link's long couch, holding each one's arm. 

She was holding an ear in each hand earlier, and seeing the damage done now I'm tempted to ask her to resume those holds.

"Alright then…" I say, trying to appear in control as I stand here with the shorn map. "From the beginning, please. Explain it to me again." Together, the three of them rise; Link's squire the first to speak since they _are_ his lord's chambers after all.

"Princess, I was just coming in to straighten out my Lord's things, since I was told someone else'd taken care of it." Well, I can easily put that down to a lie, not only can the boy hardly meet my eyes, or speak clearly, but Link's been gone for weeks… "But when I was going through my Lord's maps, I found one of them missing, and then_ she_ came out and-"

"Just like that, Squire?" The fierce looks the boy keeps firing at the young girl across from him prompts me to speak; I don't need the two of them squabbling again… "That seems rather convenient for you…" He pales.

"Majesty!"

"That's right, Princess, it is convenient, because he's a _liar!_" Suppressing a sigh, I glance back to Elise, her mother is only a few years older than I am, and one of the noble women working to put together that maddening wedding. Now though, standing there with her hair in disarray and her round cheeks reddened from temper, she certainly doesn't look very noble.

"And how do you claim things went, Lady Elise?" In truth, I don't need to use her title because of both our differences in age as well as position, but also my relationship with her mother. However, since I'm already using Timothy's formal name and he's my cousin, it's only proper. I watch with a hint of amusement how Elise takes a moment to primp her rumpled skirts and bruised ringlets before replying.

"Mama was looking for a servant boy to help her with her saddle, and she asked me to go and find the squire we kept seeing wander without a lord." Well, it seems that even when calm, neither one of them is willing to give me the truth. There are more than enough grooms in the stables to attend to Savyna. And even if there aren't, or weren't, unless they're her own personal attendants when it comes to the faces of servants, Savyna has the memory of an amniotic goldfish...

"I was coming down the halls looking for him when I saw him slipping into his Lord's chambers without permission. And when I followed him I found him stealing the map from the Hero's chambers!" Because, of course, he could only have meant to steal it and not just look over it for a moment or two before putting it back. Still, the animosity between the two children before me seems to really be little more than some bruised pride. It may be improper of me, but I don't think anyone needs to know that a young squire and a noble lady were tussling on the floor of Link's chamber when I arrived.

"Majesty, you can't honestly believe her!" Timothy's face looks pale as I find myself to have been nodding silently, although really it was in accordance with my own thoughts, and not the lie presented to me by the smaller girl.

"Calm yourself, Squire." I admonish calmly, "It is not becoming of a young sire to use violence against a younger lady." He lowers his eyes at this and I can see his ears visibly beginning to burn in the low light. However, even as I say this I can't still the voice of my friend's daughter.

"That's right, you big oaf." She chirps up in a rather sharp manner, I lift one hand so as to gesture her into silence, but am a bit to slow with the gesture. "You pulled my hair and now my ribbon's all wrinkled!" Timothy's eyes flash, and I frown as the arguing starts up yet again.

"You bit me, you little witch!"

"Tore my dress!"

"Stomped my foot!"

"_Enough!_"

Three times already I've heard this same argument play itself out between the two _children_ in front of me; and I'll not see it a fourth time. Honestly, all I wanted was a nice, quiet walk through the castle, and now I'm stuck mediating for two squabbling mini-nobles. The future weeps.

"I've reached a decision." I state firmly, waiting a moment for the yelps and whines of the two guilty parties to quite as my maid has one pointed ear in each hand once again, making sure to hold them in a manner that both children have to kink their necks to keep the lobes attached. I look down at the map one last time.

"It seems that neither of you has the patience or manners befitting your noble blood." I begin shrewdly, feeling embittered by having Link's careful work ruined by two careless children. "Nor do you hold the respect owed to those who take on more meticulous tasks, such as map making." Folding the map bits onto one another, I hold them in one hand as I cross towards Link's desk again. I take a moment to search the drawers for what I want -quills, inkwells, and two sheets of large, fair-quality parchment- before looking back over them both and parceling out these supplies.

"Lady Elise, I'm sure you'll find the Servant's wing most interesting to explore, and while you're doing so you may kindly draw up a map of the corridors for new and visiting maids and footmen." Sternly, I press the quill into her hands along with the ink, watching as she fumbles the materials uncertainly for a moment before looking up at me with a shocked look in her eyes. Promptly ignoring her, I turn to Link's Squire, his eyes firmly latched onto the remaining tools in my hands, and rightly assuming that they're for him.

"Squire Timothy," I needn't use the same force with him as I did with the girl, my cousin accepting the items and his assignment with a resigned look of defeat. "The facilities in the courtyard. To scale. I expect both maps completed and in my hands by evening fall three days hence. Excused."

"Aye, M'lady."

"Yes, Princess."

The two of them both perform their bow and curtsey accordingly, freed from my maid's grasp as the Squire slips the extra items into the messenger bag at his side. It's a part of a Squire's apparel that I often forget about even though they often end up reaching into it for one thing or another. Neither of the children looks back at me as I address the other woman plainly, asking for her to attend Lady Elise back to her mother's apartments. It's not as though the child would get lost, I just don't trust either of them not to begin squabbling again in the halls. She merely drops me a low curtsey, smiling pleasantly as though she finds the entire show to be quite amusing, and then vanishes through the doorway into the hall.

Well, now I'm alone... Bringing my arms up and folding them across my front, these chambers feel so cold despite the season; look so dark despite the man who lives in them. Suppressing a shudder, I begin massaging the palm of my left hand, half expecting to see a sparkle through my glove and feel that chill grow once more, but it doesn't, I'm just cold. From the corner of my eye, I all but see something sway in the shadows. My heart leaps into my throat for a moment as I spin swiftly on one heel, but then I feel foolish... I saw a flash of green, and in these chambers, I almost thought-

Well, that was silly of me. I did see something green though, and although I should perhaps be leaving now, I let out a breath and cross the chamber towards where Link's green tunic and cap are showcased on a manikin. A lifeless dummy of straw with no arms or face, but in the flickering light, I almost thought it was...

Slowly, I find the fingers of my right hand gently smoothing the wrinkles out of the clothes before me, straightening the collar, adjusting the snug fit of the cap which is to wide for the manikin's bald head. While in the midst of these silly, foolish actions, I'm almost startled to see a thread dangling from the seam of my glove, one of the threads for the embroidery having snapped it seems. Without thinking, I loop it around one finger and make to break it off, wanting to protect the remainder of the design. Of course, nothing in my life seems to simple anymore, and instead as I give a sharp tug I end up with a length of silver-green thread wound tightly around my finger, the silk over my skin puckered where the string once looked like a flowering vine. Of course it would've snapped in such an important place...

It's strange really, how akin to this pattern I feel. All day long I'm tugged and strained by the world around me, until I feel as though I'm fraying and snapping in places. And then when someone intrusively comes along, tries to bend me against my will, wanting to yank me into submission and make me appear as though nothing at all is wrong...

Well, perhaps the only thing really left for me to do is fall apart.

* * *

"After four days, you'd expect there to be more growth than that." 

"Xehla tried coming at him with a blade." That explains it then...

"You woke me up when you scared her away." Not looking up from the stone and mortar in my hands, I continue grinding some of the dried herbs from my stores inside, splashing in a handful of the sanctuary's purified waters every now and again to keep the mixture at the right consistency. Setting the stone rod down in the water for lack of a shelf, I bring the container up and sniff the green paste experimentally, looking for the right mixture of scents before I nod my head in approval. That done, I begin adding even more water than before, mixing occasionally and hoping to dilute it into something easily swallowed.

"I'm sorry, Farore, but when she-"

"No, it's alright. She might have cut more than just his hair by accident." Or on purpose, to give her more reason to remain at the Hero's side. I'm not displeased with the Maku Tree as she seems to think I am, I was simply curious as to why I was roused so early and by such a furious series of shouts and curses that I all but fell out of the cot I've had set up on my floor ever since the duo appeared here days ago. Turning to the Hero now, I pour the runny green mixture of herbs and healing water into a vial which can be maneuvered past his lips.

He certainly looks better now than when he arrived, I think the fairy queen also managed to heal most of the wounds which otherwise would have left scars across his face and back. His shoulder of course was to dire for vanity, and where he's resting with it half-submerged under the sanctuary waters, it will likely sport a rather unpleasant scar for the rest of his life. Well, at least he has a life now, and he should be thankful for the summer weather, since it's allowed him to spend the past four days in these waters without needing to worry about catching his death.

I've made a note already to advise him against ever growing a beard unless he makes it a very long one. His face hasn't exploded with growth as I've seen other men's do over a similar time period without a razor, but after a life spent bathing in healing waters, using very potent salves and creams on wounds, and generally getting himself cut up and burnt, it's caused the whiskers along his chin and cheeks to come in a random lengths and speeds. I hadn't noticed just how many scars he has until the hair started growing in either, and there are a number of thin slashes along his face that are little more than just scar tissue without a strand of gold to be found. It's likely that some might find it weird that I've spent enough time examining his face to learn these things, but I don't see why. He's been asleep since he arrived save for the brief time where he was dead. What else has there been for me to do aside from mediate between the Maku Tree and the now absent Fairy Queen, read, and sleep?

"He'll probably wake up soon." I mention, leaning over him where he has his head resting against one of the Maku Tree's roots, the waters still lapping at his sides as I work his jaw open with one hand before tipping the contents of the vial down his throat. Now, I already know this won't go over well with him, and am not surprised as he starts gagging and choking the potion down, but it must be more pleasant than having to drag out the act of sipping the draught, doesn't it?

"Yes, very soon, he moves around more when you do that." Now, if only I knew why Nayru was still asleep after so long. Well, perhaps that isn't true, she was awake late yesterday afternoon and woke up with me this morning, but she hasn't actually been out of bed for very long either time. I finally made the trip the her home and fetched her some cloths, so it isn't a lack of decency which has kept her bedridden aside from the times she's risen to bathe- something I'm rather pleased about- but I suppose it doesn't matter. The longer she's in bed, the less I need to worry about her straining her voice talking to people or hurting her hands anymore than they were when she arrived. Knowing Nayru, if she wasn't so tired at the moment she'd likely be down at the city's build sight looking over the progress of the Prince's mansion.

At least the townsfolk know she's home again, Mistress Blossom has been coming and going constantly since word was sent for the Fairy Queen's presence, as well as a rather steady stream of other townspeople and the like. I'm almost sure that half of them really just wanted a look at the Hero whose statue stands outside the sanctuary, but it doesn't matter to me since all they do is stand at the edge of the sanctuary, go through whatever business with the Maku Tree that they had to begin with, and then take their leave.

"Step forward, young one; do not be afraid." Looking up, for a moment I was going to question why the Guardian were to say some so strange to me, but then I notice her earthen eyes looking towards the far side of her glade, and I realize that it must simply be another one of the townsfolk come to gawk.

Turning to face the visitor, I do not make to rub or otherwise touch my legs which are wet from the knee down, the vial still held in my right hand despite being empty.

It's a young man, but judging by his appearance I don't recognize him as one of the townsfolk. His face is darkly tanned from summer work and his hands look leathery even from a distance, hard labour on a farm likely somewhere in the highlands make him look older than he really is. I doubt him to be any older than perhaps nineteen, his eyes giving him away as he looks around mesmerized by the glade around him.

To be truthful however, the moment I see what stands beyond him, the man means nothing.

"Where did you find that beast?" Perhaps beast is the wrong word, but she is most defiantly found, not bought nor bred by a poor farmer. The sunlight shimmers in broken patches across the deep robin red of her coat, muscles rippling just beneath the surface as her posture is akin to that of a trained warhorse. Strong shoulders keep her head up straight with a pair of deep earthen eyes scanning the growth around her almost as a human would. The way the silvery white of her mane falls down her neck and between her ears reminds me of hair, as though she were a noble woman knowing her majesty without even needing attend to her features.

I have always had at least some eye for horseflesh, but hardly a moment later I find myself having pushed past the man holding her reins. Her wide muzzle sniffs at my extended hand curiously, with all the mannerisms of a proper horse, but as I stroke the length of her snout once or twice, I find my eyes drawn up to hers; and I find it hard to breathe.

"…ough the night, woke my folks an' I up real good. Poor thing'd run herself half t' death she had, pa said t' take her in an' feed an' brush her down good. Kept her for a few days but she'd always be standin' at th' fence lookin' south, tried jumpin' it a few times; poor thing."

The man's words only reach me as echoes, the Maku Tree responding calmly as I can't bring myself to look away from those eyes. Like two glowing agates, I've never seen shades of red mixed into the gaze of a horse before. But it isn't the colour that holds me so; it's the… emotion…

"War horse'd be wasted on a farm, pa sent me here hopin' th' Prince'd be able t' use 'er. Frankly, I was more worried 'bought the saddle an blankets; all covered with Hylian marks!"

"Tell me…" I whisper softly, but even as I hear the man stop talking and look at me, I'm not addressing him. Instead, my hands move to hold the horse's face between them, keeping our eyes interlocked. "Tell me now… what you see… Tell me what you feel… Tell me now… Tell me…"

I can feel it happening even as I close my eyes, that dull pain biting into my chest just next to my heart. I can hear the wind blowing past me, twirling like thin ribbons around my arms and through my hair. Nayru may rewrite history, Din may summon the seasons, everyone knows the powers of my sisters, and they all think that my only strength is the curse of apathy. But really, you would think that the power to open another's heart and unearth all of their secrets; you'd think that mine would be the most revered…

I can still see even as my eyes close, still feel even as the spring waters fade around me. Secrets are kept safe in the heart, but are born from memory, to learn a secret in its truest form then, one needs to sift through hints of the past. What is more important is how a soul never forgets, the cycle of rebirth does not erase the existence of the being who once lived, they are simply locked away to live again, only under different circumstances.

But sometimes, the draw of life may be to much for a soul to endure awaiting proper rebirth, and this can lead to reincarnation as an animal, as a creature strongly bound to whom or whatever it was which caused that desire in death. Finding the memories and the secrets of a past life can be difficult at best, but when life is being lived simply for the fulfillment of a dying need…

I can hear it all around me now. Battle cries and shrieks of death, horses screaming in the nighttime as angry firelight from a blaze far behind roars like a mighty beacon across the plains. The inferno, looking back now with the wind whipping coldly from the east, it's as though Din's hells are breaking free across the world; scoring the green earth and giving light to the carnage being born atop the hill. How far the sounds carry in the nighttime…

Fear, it eats away at this memory, making actions frantic as freezing hands clutch the reins of a panicked horse, urging it for speed through the night as it is only so willing to comply. The deafening drum of hoof-beats from behind, it's a terrifying sound, the wordless call from an attacker relentlessly perusing.

Only one hand is on the reins however, as these are not my memories it is a detail slow to come to me. There is so much focus on that which is held against the rider's chest, breaths coming sharply in the cold night as wind were icy knives carving through her lungs… yes, hers. It is beyond rare for a soul to be reborn as another gender, and I can feel it, I have seen the memories of men and women, and each view the world in a somewhat different light.

The forest is swiftly forming over the horizon, dark trees twisting around one another forbiddingly, but if it is a call between the fires and wild men attacking, or the unknown shadows, what choice is there really?

I gasp along with the woman from memory, the woman in a past life who tried to flee from battle. At once I both feel and don't the angry strike of the arrow, its barbed head slicing through cloak and flesh, biting deeply into bone. Its sharp point intrudes far enough into the chest; bringing blood flowing to where it should not. I understand even as the memory is slow to connect with the same reality; a death strike.

…Oh… Wait… There's something there, something being held. Ah, yes… that makes sense... Alright. I understand now.

"…see what the Oracle has to say before we do anything else… Farore?" The world within the heart before me retreats, allowing the sanctuary to come back to me, or rather, for my mind to return to it. Opening one eye slowly, I can feel the course hairs of the horse's snout pressed against the side of my face, and find myself looking into those dark agate eyes again. That's right; souls brought back as animals don't actually know the reasons behind their actions. Within her is a strong soul left unfulfilled, but the mind is still that of a horse...

"This is Epona." I say at last, my words coming through as easily as though I had not just walked through the memory of a terrifying night. My breaths don't come in sharp gasps or weak sighs; I don't stumble over what I have to say, I just say it. "A creature gifted by Farore's winds to run and serve her master well. She was merely doing her duty in returning to his side." Pulling away from the beast's muzzle, I let one hand trail down towards the reins which have fallen to the ground from her bridle. Taking them up loosely, the tired animal trudges forwards at my beckoning.

"Uh..."

"Here." Pausing, I dig deeply into one of the pouches at my belt, drawing forth a small stone seal with the symbol of Farore carved onto the bottom. I use it for all my letters. "Take this to the Horse Master in the city; choose any animal you wish to take back to your farm." Pressing the seal into his numb hands, the young man just stares at me blankly. For all that he's just seen: I'm just a strange, blank-eyed girl who stepped forwards and hugged the animal he was bringing as a tribute to the new Prince. But a horse would be helpful to him for getting back home, and any farm would do well to have at least one working for them, especially up in the highlands.

"It's alright, young one." The Maku Tree coos gently, trying to sooth his worried face. "Master Gibari will know the symbolism of the seal in your hands; he will return it to us when he has the time; after you have chosen your animal. Take care."

* * *

**Awkward end really, but a lot of parts in this chapter more or less just tripped and stumbled along to get where I wanted. And I suppose I have to start saying this again, but still; it will all make sense eventually! Necro don't you DARE say a thing! **

**And I couldn't help it, I've been listening to 'Tell me Now' by Moya Brennan so much throughout this whole story, so when it came time for Farore to ask the same thing… eck, I stole some of the lines. Sorry! **


	31. Chapter 31

**YES! One Hundred reviews! Three Digits! I did it! I WIIIINNNN!!! **

**I don't know what I won, but still...**

**My very first 100+ review story. I'm so proud! I even got one of you who only reads and never reviews to comment; Bytemite, you're reviewer number 100! Can anyone tell me why as of Chapter 21 I started writing out the words "Twenty-" instead of just typing the number? I only noticed I'd done that this week when I did some back reading. Meh, fixed it.**

**Hey, I actually got it up on time! I like Farore a lot more now, enjoy!**

* * *

**Matters of the State**

Chapter 31

I don't want to let it go, let this sense of peace slip away. But it's like swimming, being tossed into a calm pond and rising to the surface even when you want to kick and reach the bottom. No matter what you desire, the world around you will always get its way; its strength is assured and undeniable.

The first thing I'm aware of is the contrast; the heat hanging heavily over me, but the cold hugging me at all sides. The numb ache in my neck is bellied by the numbness of my arm, the distant drone of insects is loud in my mind as there's not a breath of wind to be had.

Damp, soaked, and dry, it's difficult to feel baked and drowned at once, my mouth would feel more pleasant if it were lined with sand. Trying to move, the soiled cloth over my chest feels as though it's peeling from me. For a moment, I almost think I hear something, soft like a woman's voice, but shy and fading into the rustling of leaves overhead.

"So you're finally awake…" Easing my eyes open slowly, my mind recalls being within Zelda's summer gardens, but the wildness of my surroundings tells me that can't be so. Bringing one hand up to rub my eyes as I try to find the speaker, I feel water dribble across my skin, cold in comparison to the afternoon heat.

Now though, I begin to see where I really am. Trying to sit up, I find myself resting in a cool spring, my booted feet having practically sunken into the mud and grime under the surface, large tree roots spiraling up and out of the glassy water before plunging back down into the murk. I make to prop myself up on my right arm, aware of the absence of the metal links of my armor, and how when I move my head the whiskers trailing down my neck scratch at my skin.

A weak curse flutters past my lips in a breath, and I feel myself immediately falling back, smacking my head against the wood I was resting on. Rolling onto my side, I'm ignorant of the water and grit around me, grunting in pain and the slight fear anyone experiences when injured, but unsure of the scope of that injury. I drop myself until my chin hits the water, a keen sense of weakness running along my arm, lacing up from the elbow and concentrating over the cap of my shoulder. I recognize the feeling almost instantly, the sensation of a deep wound being healed to quickly for the body to react to either state of change. Finally, I can feel my mind connect with where I am, and where I've been these last few weeks.

Half asleep, this place reminded me of Zelda's gardens, but now, awake and with the keen memories of blood and war, of the black shard of metal powering through mail and flesh, I know she's more than a world away from me now. I hardly remember entering the Maku Tree's sanctuary, and now as I look around, I don't even know what time I'm in. There was something distinct about how we found the sanctuary, I know that much for sure, but I can't think of what it was exactly. Whatever it was, the lack of it now makes me think that maybe I'm not in that horrible world anymore.

"No need to look so frightened, Hero, I always knew you'd return to me, to fulfill your vow..." Sitting up, this time using only my left arm to hold my weight, I look around with clearer eyes, the voice tickling my memory as I scan the spring waters, my eyes tracing along the large humps of the roots around me. When my gaze reaches the trunk of the massive tree however, it takes me a moment or two before the face becomes clear to me.

Many I know would find the presence of a face pressed into the bark of an ancient being to be startling, if not downright frightening. But my childhood was dominated for the most part by the presence of one such being whose facial features were far more noticeable. Of the four great being's I've come across in my life, none save the Great Deku Tree has ever sported a bit of growth to mimic a moustache and beard. Granted, the closest cousin to the Guardian before me had a large branch protruding from his face where one would expect to see a nose, but that's explainable.

The Maku Tree, her face itself is about half as long as I am tall, wider across than my shoulders. But considering her size as a whole, the scale of her features is in perfect accordance. Still despite the size, and the smoothness of her cheeks and brow, it can be hard to find her face with its calm, slanted eyes and slender mouth. Of course, she's a tree, so despite having a mouth she doesn't require food. In fact, I've come to think over the years that their race in general only form faces because it makes every other race a bit more comfortable about them. Few people take well to disembodied voices, and although it's nigh impossible to sneak around behind one of them, human, Zora, and Goron alike all prefer to think that with their face fixated on one side no Maku or Deku tree can tell they're there. Well, for all her self awareness as a tree, those wooden eyes still have presence, and as I can see them now where they're focused directly on me... well, I can certainly feel the force behind them...

"Fulfill... what..?" Facial expression is another trait of the Guardian Trees which they've adopted from other beings. And the way the one before me now allows her gaze to trail down to the water, the way a human girl would with her lashes brushing against her cheeks- well, I don't think I'm going to like what she has to say. Granted, I think every time someone's tried to tell me something over the past few weeks, I've not once liked it at all.

"You saved me once, years and years ago, do you remember?"

"Wait, do you mean...?"

"I was only a tiny little sprout..."

Oh, by Din's Flameing Wrath, not this again! I know I shouldn't say the things which come to me, I don't know the details now but can assume that I'm not dead because of some intervention from the Guardian before me. I should be humbled and polite, I should act like a knight and be cordial and friendly with her, laugh and sigh and shake my head. Well I can't do that.

But I'm awake now, and I remember where I am. I'm not in Zelda's gardens, I'm not near the Princess or the castle. I'm hundreds of miles away across mountains, rivers, and deserts. I know all that will come to pass and how I don't factor into any of it in her life, I know how everything is being built up now just so that it can fall apart later, and if I'm wrong and I'm not back in the time I'm supposed to be, if Nayru didn't care us back far enough through time, then I know that the nightmare is only just closer now to starting.

I know all of these things, and as I review them one by one in my mind, all the panicked moments, all the heated violence, I find myself biting through my lip as the Tree continues to prattle on about how I rescued her years ago. Did I save her? Of course I did. It was the first time since leaving the Master Sword to rest in the Temple of Time that I'd felt the swirling rush of time and space as I moved through the ages. What was there to do though? I sliced through no more than four moblins, weak red-clothed brutes with faces like boars with rough glutted speech. And in return I had a huge headache to contend with every time I wandered into the sanctuary seeking guidance or rest for the long months that followed.

Look at me, I'm soaking wet but sun-burnt at the same time. I'm sweaty and bloody and wrinkled like a prune, my shoulder's numb, my arms both ache, my neck can hardly bend properly. I've been cussed at by pirates, chased away by frightened townsfolk, shed more human blood and ended more lives in these past weeks than ever before in my life combined, I was even mutinied upon and then left stumbling half dead through the night!

"Vowed to marry?" I reply sharply, cutting through the Maku Tree's glassy eyed rendition of my clumsily trying to clean a wooden blade of the blood and entrails of her attackers. I know I'll regret this later, but for now I just--!! "From what I remember, **you** were the one who did all the talking!"

"And from what I remember, **you** were well mannered."

I can feel my eyes snap away from the Maku Tree's unreadable face, the sunlight shimmering through the branches overhead is parceled out in thin rays across the clear surface of the water. The long edges of her green underskirt trail shyly across the gentle ripples of the spring; her sandaled feet obscured by the shimmering movement. The blue of her top half covers her shoulders and chest yet leaves both arms bare, the lower half of the shirt also tucks under her belt, ruffling down across one leg.

I think this is the first time I've actually seen her in years. Seen her as Nayru, Oracle of Ages. I remember how years ago when we first met, I thought the deep black of her hair was a pale blue in the summer sun, although the illusion still holds true even now where her braided lengths are loosely pulled behind her head. I remember her as being such a tender person, her deep blue eyes holding a multitude of unknown secrets.

Although this image before me now is more familiar; her standing clean and well groomed as opposed to how she was when pulled from the ocean- I still can't quite see her the same as I did the first time we met. I suppose I could say she's matured since that time several years ago. She and Ralph were already two or so years older than I was, so for all that time's certainly left a mark on me, I think of her as more of a woman than just a mature girl like before.

I see her differently now, I don't know whether I don't see her as being as strong as I once thought, or if she's just different from what I imagined, but she doesn't look as… ethereal. Her eyes hold shadows I've seen in the gazes of many before, and a solid resolve which is familiar to me from when it was visible past a crimson screen…

"You're taking me to Hyrule." I hadn't noticed the satchel slung over her shoulder until just now, and I didn't pick up how strange her hands look now in this broken light. Forcing myself into a proper seated position with my back against the tree root, wary of my weakened arm, I look over her curiously. Something's missing about her, something's not right.

Her jewelry? I can always remember her wearing coils of gold around her throat and wrist, but those trinkets are gone now. Strange, should a bit of finery truly be able to change her presence? And her hands… they almost look like those of an old woman, blotched and appearing burned even from this far away. Yes, the Oracle has changed.

"I swore to take you home." I answer calmly, although I don't know why I feel the need to add an aloof tone to my voice. I nearly blink in surprise as Nayru's eyes narrow dangerously, and she takes a few threatening steps towards me, the water splashing around her ankles noisily.

"A city is not a home; a time is not a home." She replies sharply, and this time I do blink, not sure what she's talking about, standing over me and looking down on me so sternly. If I couldn't see a bit of red staining her cheeks, or how her eyes look puffy now that she's so close to me, I'd likely feel my temper beginning to stir.

"My home is where I belong, and I belong with him. I've spent my whole life looking for what's been in front of me all along, and I won't lose to her now." I clench my jaw at that, feeling my thinned patience fray somewhat. Zelda's always told me that I have a terrible temper when I wake up, but I don't know if that's enough to content with everything else I've already had to go through. I don't even remember finally coming through time back here to where it's supposed to be safe.

"I take it then that you brought us back far enough?" I ask tersely, disliking the jab made towards my Princess. Her nod is a very tense motion, it's almost as though I can feel some sort of enmity beginning to creep up between us; like the animosity that night in the streets of Lynna.

"Mid-Summer night is fast approaching… fourteen days from now." I feel something cold abruptly sink into my stomach.

"Is Mid-Summer the decided date?" Nayru's eyes drifted away from me when she gave me the number of days, and now I can see how they drop down further until following the smooth curves of the tree's base and roots around her. I'll have to take that as a yes.

"That's not a lot of time." Finally, I brace my left arm against the rock and root behind me, using my weakened arm to help balance me just the same as I pull my booted feet from the sticky mud beneath me. This time- while being a bit more careful than before- I manage to stand on my own. I'm dripping and muddy, not to mention still sun-burnt across my face, but I'm standing none-the-less.

"The Prince took the _Fair Lady's_ signal bell with him when he left." Looking away from Nayru, two unexpected arrivals are making their way towards us. If I had thought time had matured Nayru, I should have kept my peace and saved that description for Farore.

The Oracle of Secrets easily moves through the shallow waters of the sanctuary in doe-hide boots. The swirling petal-laced skirt of her girlhood is replaced with tan trousers and a woman's white tunic edged with green and belted with brown leather. She hasn't grown much in the past few years however, in fact, with her face so rounded and smooth, emerald eyes half-lidded in the glare of the sun with her blank emotions; she looks almost like a life-sized doll. Her dark hair shimmers green as Nayru's does blue as she passes through the patchwork of shadow and light under the canopy, braided back in a similar manner to the other Oracle as I can assume her golden clasps are either around her wrists or still woven into the strands. She always seemed greatly attached to them…

"That bell can call the _Fair Lady_ from the farthest corners of the ocean and she would have been the fastest method of travel; but now we will have to go by land." As Nayru speaks I can't quite give her my full attention. Instead I just stand there for a moment like a fool blinking at the sight of Epona. She is the last creature I'd expected to see here; her robin-red back is bare for the moment with her white mane well kept and looking freshly brushed.

"She will need another day of rest before you may take her anywhere." I slow my steps as I find myself moving towards Epona where her reigns are held loosely by the small oracle in front of me. Not answering Farore as her blank eyes rest upon me, I step up to Epona and extend my hand. Snorting at me, she nudges my hand a few times before her dark eyes catch mine, holding my gaze a moment as- although I know it's her- she takes a moment or two too make sure I'm who I ought to be. Contented, I feel my lips quirk up in the barest of smiles as she begins nudging my belt, searching for a carrot or something sweet.

"It's still early; we could get a bit of distance in." I suggest, patting Epona apologetically along her snout as I have no treats for her now, turning towards the two women as Farore dropped the leather straps and went to stand by Nayru. That faint smile slips from my face, not because of them in particular, it just does. I still feel weighed down.

"We probably c-"

"No." With a start, I watch as Nayru turns to Farore questioningly, the smaller woman's face still blank as she repeats her answer.

"No, you will not leave until tomorrow. She's only had one day of rest since coming down from the highlands, and perhaps only two days there since running from Hyrule. She will rest." Blinking, I find myself looking first to Epona and then back to the Oracle of Secrets.

"You're saying she ran here from Hyrule? You mean she didn't come with anyone?" Actually, I had been about to ask if my squire was here, and then question why in the hells he'd have come here to Labyrnna in the first place. I don't know what I'd think if that were the case though, Nayru already told me what time we've come to, and the only reason Hylians would be here would be if…

"Yes, she was brought down by a young farmer. Her saddle and blankets are all inside." Farore's impassiveness can be striking sometimes, I don't know what it is about her, but she can just seem… so cold. As though the water swirling around her ankles were getting ready to freeze from the contact.

"The Master Sword is also inside. Nayru, Blossom wanted to speak with you." I don't know why, but behind that mask I can almost believe that Farore's putting more force into her commands than is strictly necessary. Nayru simply blinks in surprise at the order before ending up nodding first to the other Oracle and then the Maku Tree behind her, taking her leave with only a questioning glance at me.

"Eat while I prepare a bath." Letting Epona's reigns go, the mare trudges through the water a bit as I find myself being tugged along by my elbow. I nearly trip going up the roughly worked steps, and then all but smack my head as the hole leading below the Maku Tree is made for Farore's much smaller form. I don't know why, but instead of just leading me at a slow pace, she seems as if she's trying to drag me at a run, my legs feeling weak as my stomach twists partly from hunger and also from moving so suddenly after so long at a standstill.

"Farore—" Ducking my head again as she pulls me past the pillars of the wide hall in the front of her home, I feel the rough top of the next door scrape against my skull. The floor within the Maku Tree, save for the main hall which is covered in tile, is rough since it's the dead growth every tree has. I nearly trip several more times as Farore refuses to let go or slow down, dragging me through one last doorway and then gesturing harshly for me to sit.

I've never seen this room before, although by the smell it's most defiantly a kitchen. The walls are lined with shelves and various jars, some holding dry ingredients, some not. Pickled foods and jams are everywhere, flowers and herbs all tied up and hung from the ceiling to dry. A small clay stove sits against a small stone wall, the flames likely making it difficult to cook since they're so small. The room itself is far warmer than the rest of the tree, the right temperature for slowly stewing things.

"What is Anger?" Looking at her curiously, I don't know if I heard her right. I watch as with a thick piece of cloth over her hand, she removes the lid from a large pot on that stove, sniffing it for a moment before setting the lid down on a nearby surface. She isn't looking at me, but there's something distinctly different about her at the moment.

"Well?" Pulling a bowl and spoon from their respective places, I watch as she ladles some sort of thick soup with a very lovely aroma into the dish. I haven't had anything better than dry bread and pickled eggs for weeks now, and am suddenly unable to take my eyes off the bowl as she sets it down in front of me. Granted, she does so with a bit more force than I would expect from her.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask, fully aware of the fact that I'm going to burn my mouth from top to bottom the moment she hands me the spoon. The stew before me is steaming, but with the pains suddenly gripping my mid-section, they could be on flames and it wouldn't matter.

"When mad at someone, what do you think of?" I feel my tongue flinch back as the stinging pain as the heated food scores to top of my mouth, sucking in air trying to cool the lump of potatoe down for a moment before allowing it to continue along its way down.

"I think…" Pausing for a moment as a large knife is suddenly in the Oracle's hands, I'm immediately more aware of the topic at hand. I find myself watching her more closely as she takes a loaf of bread and begins slicing off a few pieces for me. "I think of how foolish or cruel whoever I'm mad at was when I became angry. I think most people keep reliving the very moment where the other person did something to warrant anger, it makes them get even more worked up. I can't describe anger itself to you, Farore, but…"

"Do you want to hurt them? The people you become mad at?" Allowing the next spoonful to cool a bit before downing it like the last, I find myself staring into Farore's dark emerald gaze. There's an intensity within those shaded depths that's just… chilling. Like looking into a doll's glass eyes…

"…Yes." Somehow, I feel my appetite begin to fade with that answer.

"And have you? Ever hurt someone in anger?"

"Yes." I killed in cold blood. That old man, I can change who he becomes, but I still killed him when I already had what I needed. There was no reason for me to kill him, others perhaps, but not me. All he did was speak to me, rile my anger up, but then I killed him for it…

I can't stand to look into Farore's eyes any longer, pushing the bowl from me sullenly as I lace my fingers together under my chin, rubbing the grizzly patches of hair pocketed across my face and neck.

"Link." No, I don't want to look at her right now. I feel filthy, and not only from the mud and the sweat… But somehow, that tone in her voice…

"I do not want to feel anger, because it is a dangerous emotion..." When people grow angry, it's as though there are flames crawling up behind their eyes, burning with intensity to mirror that of the emotion coursing through them. Looking into the dark eyes of the Oracle now though, I can see something flickering, something trying to catch, but there's something about that darkness in her eyes that just… swallows it up. Like trying too strike a flame on wet wool.

"But… if you ever hurt the Maku Tree again with your angry words…" I should flinch, and yet I don't as the knife in Farore's hand is driven down into the wooden tabletop with a loud bang. Her face doesn't change in the slightest, not a single twitch or strain shedding light on what's on the inside. But as I glance at her hand where it's holding the handle, her knuckles are white, and her arm is shaking ever so slightly. It's as though her face is just a mask sometimes, her body trying to do what is natural, but the mind simply not comprehending it.

"…I'm glad to see that you're doing better." All she does is nod to me smoothly; her hand falling away from the blade easily as the doll is still just a doll again. She moves past me before pausing in the doorway to the kitchen. I just sit here staring at the meal I both do and don't want to finish.

"You are taking Nayru to Hyrule tomorrow. You are taking her to where she belongs because that was your vow." Not turning to look at her, I do however feel my back stiffen as she speaks of something she ought not to know of. "The Maku Tree has been forced to hear you pine for your Princess, so you shall take Nayru with her so she may have her Prince."

"…My vow was to return the Oracle to her home."

"The Oracle of Ages' home is wherever her other half resides. Everyone save Nayru herself has always known who her other half was, but now she knows, and she will not release you of your vow until she is returned to him."

"My vow was to the Gods, why should I need the word of a mortal woman to release me from it?" I already know the answer to this question, just as I know why my head still feels stuffed with wool. Why right now even despite my hunger, I can keenly feel the absence of the Master Sword, and a nagging sense that I need it back. I barely managed a smile outside, and here, now, I can't try to lighten the mood with laughter or a joke of some sort. The very idea of lightheartedness now is so far beyond me it's as though it can never be again. I'm exhausted for all that I've only just woken up, and yet I can't help but think of all the things I need to do in order to prepare for the journey home to Hyrule.

"Remember your vow well, Hero; for only she may release you."

* * *

**Hah, so much for Ralph. Short chapter, majority written Saturday/Sunday with a headcold. **

**My brother lent out our copy of Twilight Princess a few weeks ago, and it's still not back yet, that made it hard to focus on Zelda because I didn't have that inspiration, and it gave me to much time to play Tales of the Abyss. **

**Necro30 and my Cousin are the duel incarnates of Procrastination and Distraction. Necro30 and I will soon be starting a Super Smash Bros. Melee Collaborate story to be posted in the newly-made, joint-account Mocheezemo. This gives me nearly 5 multi-chapter projects to work on. **

**Sleep…**


	32. Chapter 32

**A number of reasons **-excuses-** as to the slowness of this chapter.**

**I honestly have never had anything planned for this section of the story, but realized only at the end of last chapter that it wouldn't be very nice of me to just jump ahead to the very extreme end. So, really, I've been scrambling around for filler that has a bit of meaning to it; that's very hard this late in the game. **

**Another problem -I'm ashamed to say- was that this chapter required some witty dialogue. **

**Do you have any idea what it means to have witty dialogue at the very end of the school year!? It means burn out people, BURN OUT!! I am not going to do that _NOW!_ I refuse to burn out! I'm going to pace myself instead...**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

**Matters of the State **

Chapter 32 

You can forget how beautiful it is, my country. The sea cliffs have been pounded by the waves for ages untold until the stone itself began to draw in Nayru's pearly blue. From the sighing heave of the ocean, the forests are a carpet of green across all the low hills and valleys. Moving north into the , the terrain is laced along with rivers and lakes like a string of pearls on a silver chain.

Farther from the sea now, the air is dryer and the ground less lush. All around us still are sprawling fields, but most of them are browned now under the heat of the full summer sun. Dry scrubs dot the landscape as it isn't barren; too many rivers flow in crossing paths with their lines of green to allow for that, but it is indeed very hot. Homesteads are few and far between here where the soil is hard and rocky.

Two days ago we departed from Lynna city. We left from the west and have followed the trader's road ever since. By this evening we should reach Symmetry city, a queer town which is the center of trade here in the . Twins run amuck in a town built atop a once raging volcano, but the glasswork from the mountain's heat is the most beautiful in the world; Ralph and I already decided to make sure Hyrule became aware of this when he left on his journey.

The conversation, needless to say, has been sparse over the long hours. Sitting uncomfortably in front of him in a saddle only made for one, Link and I have only traded a handful of words since our departure. Checking if one another is tired or hungry, where to make camp the two times we have already. To be honest, I've felt bad whenever he finally brings Epona to a halt and leads us into a copse of trees for the night. It always feels as though we're losing valuable time...

Link hasn't yet asked me why I don't simply call the Harp of Ages and bid the world slow as he once did with the royal Ocarina. I'm glad for this silence even as it leaves one wanting in conversation come the day's end.

I'm surprised as well in Epona. She is a strong animal without a doubt, but I hadn't known the scope of her abilities. Not only did she manage to cross all of this harsh terrain almost entirely on her own, but for having only been out two days we've made remarkable time. Link sets her to a strong but even pace when we ride, first at a jaunty canter for the better part of a mile, then a few minutes of faster running just keeping her within the limits of a gallop when the terrain allows. I can tell she is as eager as I am for speed, but have kept my peace about letting her run at her full potential to honour his silence concerning the harp.

I don't quiet know when the wedding was to be held. I know it was near mid-summer though, that old man, he liked to talk so much. He told me the better part of his life I think, and oh how I hated him for all of it... I don't know when, be it before or after the solictice, Ralph and the Princess were bound together, but I know that we must reach them before winter. Winter is when he died. If I have to live with him in the arms of another woman, then I'll endure it, but I cannot simply live without him at all.

* * *

"That's it." 

"What's it?"

Standing, I feel invigorated, able to forget my chills even as I rub my hands together looking for my boots. Dropping down onto my bed with the soft doe-hide pair in hand, I glance over at Percy's questioning face only once as I hike the first one on up to my knee where it snuggly fits.

"I'm going to go speak with the king." Rising to stomp my feet a few times to properly sink into my boots, I cross the space between us and give the older man a few sharp claps on the back as he chokes down the steaming caffka he sipped from as I spoke. Spluttering a moment more before lifting a silk napkin to his lips to wipe his mouth, he stares up at me in shock.

"Wait, you're actually going to--?"

"Yes, Percy. Enough is enough." I don't know why it's taken me so long, I should have set the record straight the night it started to go askew. I guess I was afraid; grandmother's words haunted me while I stood there on the dais. They wouldn't let me move and stilled my tongue as Zelda's hands felt like ice in mine.

Can I even be sure that Grandmother's words were what I read? Be ignorant of the heart and do what is right for your country. Fate will present you with the proper path, and you as king shall walk it proudly. Granted, I'm not king now, but once I take a wife I will be- Gah! That's besides the point! The parchment was crumbling from age and blackened from mold and mildew; it was hard enough to draw forth what words I did, how can I be sure a key word or two was lost in the lines of black and green? Ink only fairs so well under certain conditions, not to mention the differences in how letters are formed just across time itself.

I remember how when I returned from my visit with her, I was constantly mixing up my letters between the old and new forms. It still reads the same mind you. The symbols which changed all hold the same sounds and the grammar is identical, but it still confuses people when you put a slash through the '_o_'s and unfamiliar flourishes under certain words...

Regardless, that was days ago, weeks by this point in fact and I can't even tell where the time's gone. I should've spoken up sooner, but every time I've tried to meet with the King or Zelda herself something's come up. Well, not this time!

Tossing a short formal cape around my shoulders, I step in front of the tall mirror in my chamber to make sure I don't look stupid. My hair could use a proper brushing, but I just rake my hand back through the dark red lengths to get them out of my face- not that it works to well. I try not to frown as I can almost hear Nayru chiding me for doing that too often as it is. Tugging once on the light blue of my tunic, I straighten the black belt before throwing my hands up in the air in defeat. Damn it, I'm primping like a fat cock!

"What's this, going somewhere?" Stepping out into my antechamber, Ferran looks up from where he and Jorden, my fire-haired scribe, were apparently going over numbers at the small desk. The boy is one of the few people I've ever met who sports a pair of thick glass lenses over his eyes. But although they make him look odd he's quicker with quills and mathematics than anyone else in Lynna. Well, at least of those who weren't already tied down with a job or family when we set out.

"I'll be back later." Not pausing to explain, it's when I dilly dally around that something always manages to come up and distract me from this very blatant issue. Percy can deal with those two, not that I expect them to have much in the way of arguments just now, I'd actually hope for encouragement.

Stepping out into the hall with my doors clicking shut behind me, I take only a moment to reacquaint myself with the castle's refined décor before moving along through the corridors. I've learned my way around rather well over the past few weeks here, am almost accustomed to the occasional servant bending knee to me as we pass one another. Unfortunately, a number of the lower nobility have begun doing so as well, stepping out of my way and bobbing a bow or a curtsey to me where as before it would've only been a nod or polite smile to a visiting dignitary. I don't like this change.

I need to find His Majesty, but where would he be at this time of day? I'll admit, I was spending a good deal of time with him every other day until all the chaos started bubbling up through the castle; but I never learned his habits. He can't be in too many places though, can he? There're his chambers of course, but he might be meeting with someone so I'll either have to be a bit pushy at the door or just try again later. But he might also be in his study somewhere in the lower levels. Well, I don't actually know where that would be, so let's hope not. Could he be in the great hall though? I don't think so, but the castle still thinks there's going to be a wedding soon- which there won't be if I have any say in things!- so he could be reviewing things.

Hold a moment, wasn't there mention of a ride out this afternoon? Sir Ladekhan was busy talking about something like that this morning while I was trying to tell myself my breakfast didn't really taste like ash. If my appetite decreases and sense of taste deteriorate much more I don't think I'll be eating at all…

But, the stables? Would a man that old really go out riding? Why not? Master Gibari back in Lynna city is no spring chicken, but he rides as well as anyone else… Where does a king ride off to though? Around the city? Beyond the walls? Does he even leave the castle grounds? They have a number of large orchards here within the castle boundaries themselves, so maybe…? Oh, Farore… Help me…

"Prince Raphael?" That's not help! I know without looking that that is not help, that this shall not be helpful! I do not need to speak with **him** now!

A number of the nobility here in Hyrule have taken to calling me by my full name despite it being an annoying mouthful and sounding far too refined for my taste. I can sort of ignore it coming from flirtatious young women- the number of those has drastically decreased of course- and snooty old men. But it's like a burr down my shirt when the Lord Salvin coos it so softly the way he does… Like a dove I'd so enjoy pegging between the eyes with a stone… Not that I dislike doves, I just don't like him.

I don't quiet know what it's been this whole time, but something about Zelda's cousin has never once sat well with me. True, I might be biased because of Link's warning my first day here before the banquet, and our original meeting within the King's chambers, I'm willing to accept that we got off on the wrong foot. However, that doesn't change the fact that for all that I feel a bit more comfortable here within Hyrule as the days go by, I still want to hide in my own shadow again whenever he comes sauntering down the hall. Like now; for instance.

"So good to see you up and about, Majesty," I keep myself from cringing as the man in his crimson velvet bends a low knee with a flourish of his hand for effect. I've felt like ice for weeks now, somehow it seems almost mocking to see him in such a warm colour.

"And a good afternoon to you, Lord Salvin." This man is always so hard to talk to, sometimes I almost think it better to just shut up and let him prattle on about whatever he wills, but right now at least I have somewhere I need to go. I don't have time for him today. "I'm afraid it feels as though I have been neglecting my host in recent days," But maybe he knows where the Ki-

"Yes, it does seem that way, Highness. The Princess has become rather sullen since you sealed yourself away within your chambers. I am positive my cousin shall brighten up again in your Lordship's presence... Shall I escort you to her gardens?" Oh you most certainly may not! Salvin has an uncanny knack for finding me when I'm trying to either search out the King or a means of escaping the castle for a few hours. And always- **always**- he ends up either stringing me along for hours to try and find Zelda –who really _has_ become a bit depressing to be around, it makes me wish all the more that Link would just hurry the hell up and return. I won't fall for it again, and using as calm a tone as I can manage, I cut him short.

"Actually I was referring to His Majesty- the King." Well, I'd say that that's enough to shut him up, but life in this country is never as easy as that. A flicker of emotion I'd rather not name flashes behind his eyes, teeth clicking shut where his smile looks pinned in place. Bringing his hands up, I resist the urge to rub my own cold ones as he starts picking away at the lace spilling across the back of his wrist, speaking casually to me all the while.

"Well then, I suppose I should allow his Highness be. I did of course have some business to attend to with yourself, but if you are truly intent on choosing _now _to speak with your Honourary Father..." I nearly grind my teeth at his words, I hate making myself think so highly of my own title, but damn how I hate it when he talks down to me like this. I don't even know how he does it when his words themselves are innocent enough. There's just always something about how he won't properly meet my gaze, how he stands so casually in all the finery I find stifling despite my chills.

"My Lord," I reply smoothly, "In Labrynna at least, that title is saved for after the actual wedding." Which is why I want to speak to the King and put an end to this madness _now!_

"I hear my dear cousin shall be wearing roses to the event, how stunning she shall look..." Zelda could come floating down the isle in a flock of doves and it wouldn't make a bloody difference...

"If you have business with me then, Lord Salvin, then I suppose I have the time now." I can't believe I'm humouring him again, I always do this, ALWAYS! But, that's likely because I'm sure that if I just start walking he'll only follow me like a hound on the hunt. I hate feeling like the fox around him... "But answer me this first; where is His Majesty the King?"

I hate it when he smiles...

"His Majesty left the castle nigh and hour ago for a ride in the company of Sir Ladkehan and his wife. They are expected back sometime around the evening meal." The gods hate me; well and truly hate me...

"Well then, what is this business of yours then?" Since I have nothing better to do now...

"More a word of private than a debatable proposal, Highness." I don't like how he says that, mentioning it as not being something I can argue. I never liked having people tell me what I can and cannot do before I took on this stupid title, but I like it even less when the conditions come from someone I want as far from me as humanly possible. The prospect of marrying into his family- however alienated the connection according to castle gossip- is enough to upset my stomach...

I find myself walking with him, and although I'm not fond of the arrangement I try to beat down that inkling of unpleasantness in the pit of my stomach. He isn't taking me anywhere I haven't been before, simply passing along and through the seemingly endless number of twists and turns in the castle halls. Weeks ago, walking with him would've left me completely lost, but by now I can see the various little land marks which help the other inhabitants keep from going in wandering circles. As we walk however, somehow able to avoid any other living soul, he speaks to me, and his voice holds a tone I certainly don't like having directed at me.

"As I'm... sure, you've come to notice, Prince Ralph." There's something dark in his voice now, clinging to the edges of his words like shadows during the twilight. "My dearest uncle did not come to his throne through conventional nor peaceful methods..." Shadows at nightfall, darkness edging the green of his eyes as I find our gazes locked, this man is... dangerous? "His Majesty has made many grand strides towards healing the scars left behind by his triumphant campaign. However, only many more long years and steady lines for the crown to follow will truly bring peace back to our Golden Land. If one war brought him into power, heavens forbid that those with unsettled doubts may see a second one as a means to topple him..."

Yes, dangerous, it's always the blackest shadows which hide the sharpest knives...

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, trying to speak sharply but the breath escapes me at the last moment. When did we begin to climb the castle stairs? Moving higher through the levels, I hadn't noticed we'd been doing anything more than wander in circles until I find him pulling me to a stop beside a wide open window. The breeze coming through the open panes is warm with summer heat, and as I find myself just standing here with Salvin at my arm, I find my gaze caught by the winding road beyond the castle's courtyard. Amazing, from this one window one can see all the way down towards the city...

"This is Hyrule..." His voice is so soft behind me as he speaks, somehow although I should be hearing the faint echoes of the castle forges working to shoe horses and repair broken tools, there should be faint cries from the knight's courtyard directly below us... But those sounds are drowned out by the lull of his shadowed words instead.

"Those reluctant to kneel to my King have accepted his Princess as heir... If she were to be dishonored, shamed as her own ability to serve as a wife- the right of any young woman- is called under question..." Shadows bleed into one another as the night marches on, so many dark streaks across what was pure in the light. Where are those knives, I wonder? Where are those deadly needles?

"His Majesty would never allow a war, but so many would call for it... What trial is it then for lords who do not even see the man before them as a true king, to slip something into a drink? To invite him on a fateful ride? Their shamed Princess they make a Queen for they have accepted and love her. But one so young, so distraught, so dearly in love with this country of her ancestors and gods, how could you ask her to deny that which her people will cry for? The blood of the Prince who wronged her... wronged Hyrule."

Why do I see Lynna when I stand here looking out across Castle Town? The sea is many miles away from here beyond the woods to the south and their barren cliffs, and yet I can smell the salty air being blown in from the harbor... Somehow, as he speaks, I can see shadows crawling across the humble buildings of a city built under another monarch, maintained through centuries of anarchy. Shadows, flames... pulsing with a black rhythm, like a heartbeat, but really it sounds more like the drums of war.

"I am sorry to have brought such a bleak idea to mind, Majesty; I know you honor my cousin very dearly, and are eager to take her as your wife. It was foolish of me to contemplate such a miserable fate, but you must understand that it is a fear which has plagued me for many nights now..." I still can't find the knife, I'm wallowing in his words and yet I just don't know from which direction the blade will come...

Nayru… All I can see is Lynna…

"It is such a lovely view, isn't it… Cousin?"

* * *

"Ah, Salvin. There you are." Looking up from the papers before me, I give a dismissive nod to the Steward who was sitting across from me up until a moment or two ago. Sitting back in my own chair here in the low light of my study, I run my hands back and forth along the thick, richly carved wood of my plush seat. My desk is a thick, dark wood as well, its wide surface strewn with various parchment bits containing written words of both important and trivial news, matters of the state and my own personal household all jumbled together. Occasionally, yes, I do seek to organize and tidy the mess, but soon enough it all just overflows again into a torrent of parchment and ink. 

The rest of the room is a bit tidier as Salvin bows lowly in the doorway and the Steward whispers past him into the corridor beyond. Over the years the walls have been overtaken by high tiered bookshelves, most of which also hold a variety of stones- enchanted and not-, small models, rolls of maps and portraits, small mementoes from the life I used to live and my child's growing years, and any number of similar baubles. This room has always been special too me; it also houses the only remaining image of my wife as nearly ever other was counted amongst the damaged items lost during the Dark King's coup d'etat.

"Forgive me, Majesty, I was sidetracked after your summons." There are no windows this far within the castle as the Library is in fact almost above us in the castle's design. In the low light of the various candles which shimmer throughout the room, I can see the trace amounts of gold thread along the hem of his deep red tunic. I must say, it is often a bit odd to see him in such a warm fabric such as velvet during the summer months, but; he is still young and courting especially. That is a combination which may excuse any flawed behavior.

"That's quite alright, it was for nothing urgent." Gesturing for him to take the now vacated seat before me, I notice how low the light is for all that there are several flames burning. Taking a slow, deep breath, I allow my eyes to drift shut for a moment as Salvin crosses the room towards me, one of my hands held fisted before me in the air. Opening them again in a similar manner to how they were closed, I uncurl my hand in time and feel a tingling sensation along my spine which runs down the length of my arm.

Light, not blinding, but soft and contrary; four tiny blossoms of pale white bloom from my fingertips and sail into the air. I allow the spell to run its course through me, tying the power off and knotting it mentally as the four small orbs take up positions at the corners of my study and hover there obediently. Effectively, by the time Salvin has settled himself across from me, I have banished many of the darker shadows which often invade this private haven of mine.

"Tell me, Salvin, have you seen the Prince about at all?" I question lightly, rifling through a number of the scattered pages across my desk and bundling a number of related bits together. Tapping them gently into place so as to be set aside in a manner resembling neatness, I watch him over the tops of the pages for his answer. Sometimes the lack of lighting down here in my study may be troublesome, I can't tell if there's anything hidden in the lines of his face as he answers; voice betraying nothing.

"Yes, Majesty. I saw him shortly after your Highness retreated here to your study. I believe he accompanied Sir Ladkehan and his wife out on their afternoon ride."

"Hmph, I had thought the Lady had wished to ride alone with her husband today..." So strange of the Lady Gloria to change her mind about such a thing, but perhaps Ladekhan was more persuasive than usual.

"I was led to believe much the same, Majesty. But, regardless he saddled his horse with them and is expected to be away quiet late into the evening time." Taking a moment to mull over this, I at last do little more than sigh as yet another opportunity to speak with the Prince has past me without my knowledge. Farore knows; we do indeed have much to discuss. I've received a number of strange rumours through Impa and a few of my friends amongst the lower class. It only seems right for me to try and put these worries to rest, most especially to do so before wedding guests begin to arrive.

"Ah, well, I suppose it can't be helped. I'll simply try again tomorrow; I trust he'll be too tired when he returns this evening for much conversation." His health has not been very good for the better part of his visit here with us. I think it best to avoid a tired young man, stressed with title and position and now cranky with illness no less! I'll let the poor boy sleep. With Nayru's blessing and mine own, he'll get little enough in good time...

* * *

**Yeah, crappy ending- SUNNY DOESN'T CARE. The chapter is late! It needs to go up! Nyah, the mind is melting!! **

**Although things are looking as though I could easily throw Din into this story now, I'm actually not all that keen on the idea. I kind of want Matters to just end! I loves it, but it's just so long now! xP**

**NYAH!!!**


	33. Chapter 33

**All it takes is a music change. Breaking Benjamin, Fuel, and Our Lady Peace! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Matters of the State **

Chapter Thirty-three 

The dawn light sweeps across the mountains like the incoming tide along the shoreline. Din's red mountains are cloaked in the crimson light of the flaming sun which is her radiance too brilliant for the human eye to witness directly.

All around us now these four days since we left Symmetry and the boarder between Hollodrum and Labrynna behind us, the world has been barren of Farore's green life. As if to compensate of this however, her winds whistle through the stones like thousands of hollow flutes. It was the sound of those mournful cries which woke us this morning, hoof beats drumming hauntingly in time with them since we saddled up and began today's leg of the journey.

We're moving to slowly. I know Epona's abilities, but she tired herself out too much trying to reach Lynna city. I should be making her run through the nights instead of stopping at every sunset. Perhaps not now so much as the mountain paths are wrought with loose stones and shallow dips, but every time we find portions of Ralph's road I hate having to stop and loose that precious time.

From Lynna city all the way to Symmetry Nayru and I were able to follow Ralph's north trade route. I once navigated the Labrynnian highlands when I traveled their land years ago, but I hadn't known just by speaking with him how much of a difference a proper road makes. We reached Symmetry in three days ridding, before the same journey would have taken twice as long.

Now however, the road is not as uniform as it is still incomplete. Gorons are slow, patient workers, you cannot rush them when they are in the middle of something because their pride won't allow for faulty workmanship. Needless to say, this slows them down immensely although the finished product is always worth the wait.

Now however, we're getting only the short end of the stick as only two days from Symmetry we hit the end of the finished segments. Now we are moving across under maintained pathways from an era long past. I give props to the road builders of the Ambi's age, their work hasn't withstanded time completely, but what sections haven't collapsed or been washed away by land slides are solid even after all these long years.

So, we've traveled for seven days now, only that many nights left before Mid-Summer. Is that when everything we're trying to stop will come to pass? I keep finding myself trying to rationalize it down to our last chance being to reach Hyrule before winter, in which case we have ample time to not run my horse to her death. Winter was when they all said Ralph finally died, but can I really trust the words of cut throats and professional drunks? When word travels quickly details are lost and exchanged. Time twists meanings and as stories are told over and over again the words change as do all their hidden secrets. Is searching out news from so long ago not akin to finding a single important leaf amongst the thousands blanketing a forest floor?

I want to go faster; I want to cover more ground and distance, to stop less and for shorter times. I can feel the pressing weight of the Master Sword strapped to my back, the absence of the shield I've carried for years which is now lost in the paradox of looping ages. I know I am still bound by the words I spoke in that time which I will die trying to prevent the coming of, but I cannot bring myself to worry for Nayru's heart now when all that fills my mind at night and under the glaring sun of day is seeing her selling herself for her honour.

Would that really be the only reason though? I know Zelda's love for Hyrule, it is something far beyond simple duty; it is an honest love to keep her kingdom safe and prosperous. Even were she not Princess, destined along any line of fate to be Queen one day I know she would still love her land as she does now. Even if they were not to be named her people she would sacrifice anything for her county.

If they bid her marry the prince of another nation, all together as one voice, would she have the strength or the will to deny them? She has strength in a way which most noble women keenly lack, but it comes with the price of her being bound by the will of her subjects.

But… who's to say she would need be forced at all after all these weeks? And why… why does that idea twist my stomach and make me feel as though I could curl in on myself and be violently ill? I like Ralph, he's a good man, a good friend, and the same goes for Zelda. If it would make her happy wouldn't I want to see her wed to a man who I know lives in the real world and doesn't just sit on his backside living off taxes?

No. The answer that question, it just- it's no! I don't know why- or at least I don't think I do- but _no!_

"Hyah!" Speed, Epona has always been willing to run for me, to cross any distance or dangerous path if that was where I needed to go. If she hadn't run so far from Hryule to find me, then Nayru and I would be walking this distance or riding a less reliable steed. But coming so far took so much from her, and I can't help the inkling of guilt which bubbles up along side these ill feelings as I make her run faster. She's so tired, but I need her speed now, I need her strength.

Please, Epona. Run for me. I can feel Nayru's arms around me as our speed increases to a full gallop as another stretch of true road comes through amongst the tumbled rocks and uneven paths. I can almost feel the Oracle's bubbling fear as the drop below us is steep and long. One wrong step from Epona and we'll all be sent tumbling over, and likely not survive…

That's something to think on, isn't it though? Dying on this journey… what would that mean then? The Oracle of Ages, the woman who would have been made Queen of Labrynna, vanishing without a trace when her journey ended with her plummeting down a rocky slope high in the Hollodrum Highlands… The Hero of Time, Farore's chosen and wielder of the Master Sword. Called by Farore's bells to the aid of the gods with their holy blade, never to return again with said sword or his piece of the sacred Triforce.

Never to return for at least thirty years, where they would be lost not knowing what had become of their world, untouched by the passage of time. The Hero finally begins the war to topple the Hylian Regent, and saves the Oracle's life only just before the start of the battle.

The last time either one is seen is fleeing the burning home of the dead Regent, Ambi's tower smoldering at the bottom of the sea.

Chilling really, to think that one faulty step could be the defining moment to set everything before and after it in motion…

That's what we're waiting for though, isn't it? A defining moment… Something to break the cycle of time and death, something to release us from this Paradox, for is that not what we are in the midst of now?

We aren't supposed to reach Hyrule castle, I know this truth as surely as I know the beast carrying me swiftly unto my fate. My memory tells me I have ridden this way only once before. But my heart and that part of me which has always pulled the rest along towards destiny, it knows that this is a very familiar path.

Those men whom I fought beside, those who in the end turned on me because they could not judge me for who I was, they live in a world which has not come to pass. In their history, the Hero of Time was lost to the world the summer before their prince was killed and their country amalgamated into a foreign empire.

I am no stranger to the mysteries of time. If drawing a sword from a pedestal may throw an entire land under the shroud of darkness, then who am I too say that one faulty step along a mountain path may not topple a monarch? Somewhere ahead of us along this road, I know that there will be a choice waiting for us. I also know that although neither I nor the world holds any memory of it, I once stood before that choice and have witnessed the results of a faulty decision.

The question before me now however, is what did I do then, and how can I know to change it now when the time comes? It's like trying to outrun your shadow, trying to maneuver around something that can't be outsmarted. How do you outthink yourself? How do you enter your own mind and come up with a definite answer as to a choice you made but can't remember? Perpetual deja'vu, how do you escape your own self? Your fate?

Some say knowing courage is to never know fear. But as I slow Epona to a jaunty walk as the ancient road gives way to scrubs and red clay, I can feel my heart pounding in my ears. My eyes can't help but gaze sightlessly down the steep slopes where a single loose stone will send me plummeting. Only fools don't know fear, and I am no fool.

"Link?" What's that sound? Looking around, I can feel Nayru twisting in the saddle behind me, Epona's ears swiveling around even as she carefully clops her hooves across the dry earth. But I can hear something, my eyes taking in the sharp blues of the sky as the mountains around us are like the crimson maw of a mighty beast. It's so faint though, that sound, high and whittling through the air like a far off bird's cry.

"Is it… voices?" That's almost what my mind tells me it is, voices shouting on the wind. But, why?

There's no time to consider it however, I can almost feel my vision narrowing as a deep rumbling sound strikes me from all sides. Small, harmless shards of rock, they begin dusting down from above, clouds of sun-baked dirt showering down from the sheer rockface stretching steeply over our heads.

"Farore…" I breathe, feeling Epona suddenly begin to panick beneath me, lurching forwards over the unsteady rocks and scrubs. It's not voices we're hearing, its boulders beginning the agonizing decent from the higher reaches of the mountain!

"Farore,_ no!_" Not like this! I did not just blindly walk towards a fate I knew was waiting for me, not like this! Not this easily! Blindly, I drive my heels into Epona's flanks, knowing full well the danger of asking speed now but also aware of more dangerous hunks of red stone hurtling down the peak towards us. Nayru's shrieks are drowned out by the sudden roar of the mountain around us, Epona giving a terrified scream of her own as I fist the reins forcefully in my hands, kicking at her again as she rears back in fright.

"Go, damn it, _run!!_" Red dust billows up in thick clouds from under Epona's hooves, and I give a shout of my own as I can feel her becoming unbalanced as the mountain continues to scream at us. A loud crash behind us can only be one of the larger stones smashing through the path we were following. I can feel us tipping, feel that edge just to my right looming ominously beside me, as though the clear air beyond were reaching out to me with claws to drag us down beyond recovery.

"Epona- **_RUN!!_**" Heat flashes up the length of my left arm, and I can't tell if it's from injury or my own fear beginning to get the better of me as my eyes water and I see nothing but red. We're going to fall…!!

"**_ZELDA!!_**" Wind. I don't even know where it comes from, but it's there, here. Like a hand brushing through curtains to let the daylight in, the clouds of red whip away from me, the path before Epona's flailing hooves clear to me as there's only one sharp bend before another stretch of the old road is visible.

I needn't touch my heels to her again; I feel my head snap back and Nayru lurch backwards almost too far out of the saddle. Reaching across as far back as I can, I grab her arm as I can feel her sliding from her perch behind me. Epona is suddenly flying forwards as I awkwardly pull the Oracle up across my lap as she nearly falls to the ground to be crushed.

Flying, yes, that's what she's doing. As if spreading a pair of wings on the winds howling past us, the roar of the mountain is one of furry as Epona's hooves strike the crumbling ground only once more before sending her straight into the air. For a moment, I could scream as nothing but wind and distant red stone is beneath us, stone and red dust filling the air where we once stood.

I can't even be sure what's happening, feeling detached from myself as I keep an iron grip on the woman now in front of me in the saddle, and on the leather reins biting deeply into my free hand. My world should be filled with sound as the mountain tumbles down and washes away the stones where we stood in a torrent of furious red, but I can't hear any of it. Deaf for a moment, it's as if the world is holding its breath…

And then Epona's hooves strike solid stone, and it all comes back to me.

"Go, go, go!" That ethereal wind vanishes from behind us but the roar of the mountain is enough to drown out my cries and drive Epona faster than I could have imagined. The confused, twisting, spinning world of azure sky and crimson stone blurs once more as Epona's hooves clatter sharply across the old stones of the unkempt road. I can hardly breathe as I let her carry us forwards, letting the reins go slack even as I clutch them numbly. Instinct demands survival, I'll let her obey hers in order to fulfill mine own.

Somehow, I manage to look over my shoulder for a brief instant even as I know my eyes should be scanning the road ahead of us to keep the panicked steed from riding us right over the next cliff instead.

It's so eerily akin to the great beast I envisioned the mountains as being; stone biting through open air searching for prey too swift for it to catch. Where once there was a shambled path of bush and gravel, I can see nothing more than settling dust and a forbidding mound of stone… It's Dins powerful earth bested by… by… …

…Fate?

Slowly, I can feel my mind reconnecting with my numbed body. Bringing my eyes back to the front, I pull back hard on the reins as this next section of the road is also fast coming to its end. I ignore the sudden stiffness of my limbs and Nayru's faint cries as Epona rears again, kicking at the air in front of us a few times and dancing precariously close to the edge.

Swiftly though, she too also recalls where we are, dropping back down to all fours and dancing back and forth several times in agitation as Nayru slips from her uncomfortable position in the saddle. I follow her a moment later as the Oracle doesn't seem to have the strength to stand, her legs simply dropping her down onto the dusty stones.

If I could spare her a moment, I would, but as my own saddle-sore legs are suddenly burdened with my weight, I clutch at the reins clumsily to keep from dropping down like her. Managing to keep my own feet, my knees feel weak and my stomach twisted into several knots. I can feel myself shaking with the effort of keeping the contents of my stomach down where they belong, bringing myself around to Epona's front and still leaning on her heavily. I'm gasping for breath even as she was the one doing all the running.

Leaning my head on her sweaty neck, I stroke her long snout a few times, trying to calm both her and myself. Mechanically, my hands go too the bags attached to the saddle and I dig out a water skin still heavy with its contents. A horse can down more than what I have with me without noticing the difference, but I think nothing of it as I uncap the bottle and take a swig, knowing there's another three tucked away as I nudge the top past Epona's lips and let her take a good long drink as a reward. It's a pittance after what just happened, but this isn't home where I can feed her carrots and fresh oats after a good run…

Even as I stand here trying to calm my racing heart, I can't keep myself from listening intently to the settling cries of the mountain. We aren't safe here, we have to keep moving before another slide comes our way…

"Nayru," I say breathlessly, still trying to breathe normally and no longer in these strained gasps. Looking to her, the hood of her cloak fell a good long while ago, her hair snarled and unwashed around her face after days of travel. For a moment the blank look in her eyes sends a flash of fear through me, a chilling sensation after the terror of the slide. But then her gaze flickers towards me at her name, and I let go of the breath I hadn't known I was holding.

"Nayru…" Fumbling with the bags again as I shove the empty skin back into its place, I draw forth a second one and numbly shuffle towards her. We have to keep moving, I know this and she should too, but I just drop down on the baked stones next to her lifelessly. I watch my arm come up, offering the water to her even though I can't quiet feel my own hand. There's a stinging sensation along one of my palms, the leather of the reins having left a mark…

"Are gods… bound by time?" I ask thickly, watching as her hands shake as she tips back a few small splashes of the water before handing it back to me.

"No…" It's odd, as she holds the water out to me, it's as though her arm doesn't cast a shadow against the dry grass and rock beneath her… It could just be the way the light hits her hand though. How it's somehow shining on along the top of her arm but also beneath it at the same time… But, you can't out-maneuver your own shadow… You can't escape a fate, not even with Farore's Winds…

"I didn't think so…"

… Or can you?

* * *

"An then when they bring the wagon up, we go down and we check t' make sure they aren't bringin' in anythin' his Majesty doesn't see fit t' be enterin' the city."

"An then we checks the next one a'fer that too."

"Now, now! Don't go gettin' the boy ahead of himself, Yusef! Now…"

Sweet Farore, I could die. The sweltering heat of midsummer is very much upon us, and coupling the low haze of heat with the depressing air of the city what with the silence of the bells, life is absolutely miserable. In honesty, I think the only thing which brings a smile to anyone's face now adays it talk of Her Majesty's wedding, but at the moment as Sir Coram and Sir Yusef stand here arguing in front of me, nothing could make this situation at all appealing.

After all these long weeks of My Lord's absence, the dreaded moment at last arrived where I was –horror of all horrors- reassigned to another knight. I think a part of my soul shriveled up and died when I was called into Sir Kalas' office during the height of the mid-day heat several days ago. If I had come to think of the castle library as becoming unbearably stuffy as the season progressed, that discomfort has no bearing on the tasks set to me now.

I suppose it is similar in a way to the level of discomfort I was in for the duration of my injury. In retrospect, I likely shouldn't have taken advantage of my condition as much as I did, considering the sound beating I received at the hands of Sir Ladekhan's squire mere hours after the cast on my arm was removed. Of course, I wouldn't shame My Lord with the idea of my being completely wrung out without landing a few choice blows myself, Henry needed a tooth pulled after we were finished with one another. But, truth be told, I still did end up the lesser for our encounter… my eye is still a brilliant shade of violet from his knee, and I've had a twinge in my shoulder ever since he bent my good arm that way…

"An we check that there list on the wall t' make sure all the quotas are met an taxes paid t' his majesty."

Sir Coram and Sir Yusef are brothers and gate-guards alike, sharing their mousy brown hair and obnoxiously large noses. Coram's eyes are brown however, and his brother's are a dark green. I don't think they're noble-born, likely having come up through the ranks after the rebellion many years ago as they're both certainly much older than most of Sir Ladekhan's men. I don't know much about either of their careers though aside from that minor speculation, but I can also assume that neither one is particularly skilled nor bright. This comes from considering how this is the eighth time I've had the protocols of manning the Eastern City Gate outlined to me in the past five days.

In a way, my technical assignment to Sir Coram also includes taking care of Sir Yusef's needs as well. Which in itself can be… well, it can be absolute hell is what it can be. One would think that brothers in arms and blood would know how one another likes things done after so many years living here in the barracks of the Eastern Gate, but that is clearly not the case.

The gate is not a dangerous place unless a troop of Gorons comes through without pausing to recall that they're entering a human city, but Lord Darunia arrived alone and departed many days ago. This lack of stone-backed miners has left me without a reason as to why **I**, a _squire_, am required to wear armor which is several sizes to large at all times. It's humiliating, the chain mail under the sweltering red wool of my tunic comes down nearly to my ankles, and the helmet's visor often snaps down over my face when I least expect it. I feel like a small child trying to play solider, why do I need to wear this foolish attire!?

It's on Sir Coram's orders that I shuffle around under this tonne of metal and wool for all waking hours. On my first day here at the wall Sir Yusef told me it wasn't required, and the moment I turned my back I was sharply rapped on the head by Sir Coram's horse-cane and had my ears boxed until I clambered back into the clanking suit. The moment Sir Yusef saw me wearing the armor again, of course, he gave me an ungodly lecture about how men years before have fought and died for peace so that young boys such as I should never fear for our lives and dress for war. Why do they not simply argue amongst themselves on the matter!? Why me!?

My assignment here, blessedly, is only temporary. Each morning as I wake in the rising heat of the pre-dawn hours –the only time when the city streets are clear and the packed-dirt lanes here in the lower levels of the eastern district are not blinding clouds of dust- I pray to hear the bells to announce My Liege's return. But, of course, as it has been for even the weeks prior to this reassignment, there is only silence.

"What-ho, now!? You there! Let me see that wagon!"

Mid-day here at the wall is an absolute horror. The West and Southern thoroughfares here within the royal city are always rife with merchants and dancers and general city folk, but the East gate is the filthiest sector of the city in terms of trade. Anything living is kept here in the Eastern district, be it coo-coos, goats, horses. There is even the occasional beast with paws chained together and a muzzle over their long snouts. Grizzly brown hides from which the monsters get their name, twice as tall as any man, weighing as much as three…

Of course, since everything living to be traded comes in through the East, they all tend to go about their business here as well. I swear once My Liege returns I shall never wear these boots again!

"You, boy! Go see how far back the line is spreadin'!" Jumping at the command as Sir Coram raps on the twice-too-large helm over my head, the visor snaps down over my vision nearly taking a shaving of skin off my nose in the process. I can't help it, grunting something rather un-lordly under my breath as he turns his back to assist his brother and the two other Gate Guards as one merchant in particular is being particularly loud about his kegs of ale and wines. Something about celebrating the Princess's wedding…

"What did you say, boy?" Bugger…

"I said, 'Aye, Sir'!" I chime up obediently, momentarily thankful for the visor as my ears burn terribly against the sweaty underside of my helm. Jumping to my feet, I should have snapped the visor back up before moving. As is the case with everything else I'm wearing, this tunic is far to large for me, and I feel it only a moment too late as the toe of my boot catches the hem, and the chain mail is adequate to pull me down to the ground.

Something of questionable hygiene is stuck in the grate of my visor… And there's something wet and warm under my left hand…

"_By Farore's Furious Howling Gales!!_"

"What was that, Squire?"

"NOTHING, SIR!" I can't take much more of this! I simply cannot take much more of this_ at all!!_

Trying uselessly the heave myself back up to my feet; I bring one mail-laden arm up and peel the helmet and its disgusting attachment from my head. Grunting and huffing in the thick heat and my own foul mood, I let the beaten metal clatter to the ground in revolt.

To the side of the Eastern Gate is the small guard's booth, which is where I sit in the sweating heat all day from the time I wake up till I collapse in the evenings. To think that I'm so sick of this after only a few days insults me with my weakness, but I'll be damned if I can help it now. In the back of the cramped booth is a steep and narrow stairway carved into the thick city wall, archer slots cut through the stones in places lest the gate ever come under attack.

Were I not burdened as I am, these stairs would be only minorly irritating. But as things stand now, I huff and puff far too much for my own good as my legs scream in protest to the curly high steps. Persevering of course, I bite down a groan as I emerge in the full glare of the summer sun and my armor beings to heat up once more.

The city walls are nearly twenty feet high, and thick enough for me to walk along the top of if I wanted too. Directly across and below the wall however is the redirected flow of the Greater Zora River, something which taunts me with its clear depths and cool appearance. Of course, should I try to jump into said water, I'd likely drown due to either the weight of my mail or the notoriously swift current of the river itself. How cruel…

The view is certainly nice though… The bridge across the moat is down and its stone supports across the river provide the only shade for nearly three miles in any direction from this point. Hyrule field is expansive, fading into forest several miles off in the distance with the red of the Goron Mountains just beginning to show itself in the distance; the highlands of Kakariko village.

"Squire!?"

"Counting, Sir!" The road leading out across the fields is a thoroughfare all in itself, and I swipe the back of my hand across my brow as I start trying to count the wagons milling about waiting for their turn to cross the bridge and enter the market proper. Looking back and forth along the stone ledge before me I make a grab for the collapsed telescope sitting in the sunlight for such a task as this.

"Din's wrath!" I curse sharply, feeling the heat of the brass score the palm of my hand as I foolishly closed my fingers around the cylinder. My first reaction is to throw it down, but that might shatter the lenses, so I feel myself nearly bite through my lower lip, yelping as I toss the instrument back and forth between my hands waiting for it to cool. Damn it, it's hot!

"…seven, eight, nine…" Wait, did that one move? Damn it, I thought I counted the blue caravan already… "…three, four, five…" Hey, is that one from Holodr- damn it, lost count _again!_

"Sixteen more coming, sir!" I shout down at last, not sure of the number but tossing it out anyways. …But then I don't get a response.

"Sir! Sixteen!"

"I heard you, Squire! I'm not deaf!" I find that to be a debatable answer, but keep that thought to myself…

By the gods though, is it ever hot… Even the stone of the walls is warm with the summer heat, leaving no respite at all as I leave the telescope extended and cross my arms along the wall, resting my chin on the scratchy red wool of my tunic. Hyrule Field just seems to go on forever… unending even with Din's red mountains looming off in the distance… Only the slow passage of arriving and disbanding caravans and their herds breaks the peace of the scene, the grassy plains yellowing under the harsh sun.

I often wondered why there were no trees around this gate, always thinking it odd that they wouldn't plant a grove or two to shade animals or keep away the intrusive stench of their collective presence… But now I think I understand while standing here watching them all mill about. With so little obstruction, it's easy to see when one foolish goat tries to make a break from the herd. With the fields parched for autumn rains now they even leave a dust trail behind them, making it even easier to track their escape…

Heh, I can even see one now… It must be a group coming though, since this one's riding straight towards the crowd and gates. Strange though… I can't see the cloud behind it to signal the rest of a caravan… Wait…

I can feel a tingle run down my spine as the idea is half formed before I immediately bring the telescope up over my eye. Swallowing as the world both shrinks and zooms up both at the same time, I try to be gentle and smooth with my hands as I swing the telescope around, trying to find that speck of dusk. That speed; and coming straight towards all those many herds of livestock... Is it..?

Curse this heat! I can feel myself leaning as far across the stones of the wall as I possibly can, the tiny circle of my vision finally locking onto the streak of speed and dust riding boldly across the plains. I could shout in frustration however as the heat causes the air to shimmer, and I can see nothing more than the distorted silhouette of the lone rider and steed powering forwards at a flat gallop. It's as though death itself were at the mount's heels. But I can't see any horses following them to signal some sort of raid… No defining colours or banners discernable from this distance.

It's too suspicious though, too many variables. Snapping the telescope down on the stones, I turn and make a dash towards the bell positioned just within my reach at the corner of the wall just over the gates themselves. There's a tiny cord hanging from beneath the clapper, and although it's small the sharp peal of the alarm can cut through the din of any crowd.

_Gong… _

Stunned, all I can do is claw at the warm stones of the wall's raised ledge as the sound strikes me like a blow. I don't know whether my foot caught on the edge of my tunic again or whether it was just my own dumbfounded-ness, but I can't move as I cling to the ledge like a dead weight. I can feel my eyes widening in disbelief, some emotion I can't name or put words too causing my stomach to begin churning before the bottom simply falls through. Dizzy, I'm suddenly torn between the need to laugh and cry like a miserable little boy wearing a grown man's armor whose been wallowing in horse dung...

_Gong… _

I can hear it, so far off in another district of the city, beyond my sight even here atop the wall. It isn't like last time though, that deafening peal, not so sad and mourning, nor even so alone for that matter. Were I closer to the Temple of Time now, I would be able to hear all of them ringing. Nayru's tiny silver relics flailing back and forth on their hidden riggings within the walls, Din's copper chimes ringing out in hearty welcome, the simple brass of the brotherhood will likely start ringing soon to add the voices of the people to those of the gods…

_Gong… Gong… _

But Farore's grand monuments of sea-green stone, they're the ones I can hear from here. Like the rising crescendo of a deep baritone choir, so low and almost sad, but with building momentum, and such an undeniable sense of triumph.

_Gong… _

All the bells, three sets for the Goddesses, and one for the people dropping their tasks and turning stunned towards the centre of the joyous cries. Already I can hear the voices of the townsfolk beginning to rise as they haven't since welcoming the Prince Ralph to our home many weeks ago. Chanting, cheering, laughing, even those down below the walls, I think I can see some of them dancing as that single streak of dust across the plains doesn't slow in the wake of the sounds.

_Gong… _

"Be that him, Squire? Be that the Hero of Time?" The telescope, I wasn't very careful with it when I tossed it down, I think it rolled right over the edge of the wall. I can't bring myself to think about it though as I hear Sir Coram's voice at my ear, his hand coming down to clap me on the shoulder as I find I'm no longer slumped uselessly next to the alarm bell.

"Aye, M'lord… It's him. He's home…"

My Lord is home.

_Gong… _

* * *

**There. Much better, no?**


	34. Chapter 34

**Awesome, last chapter made me hit 186000 words EXACTLY**

**Poor Hans Zimmer, his music carried this story along for the better part of 20 chapters, and yet it's angry-ish rock dominating my playlist now xD **

**Enjoy!!**

* * *

**Matters of the State**

Chapter Thirty-Four 

Whereas the Great Hall of my castle has always been a chamber I have felt welcomed within, and where I have hosted many a grand occasion, the proper throne room of the palace has never felt nearly so inviting. Most matters of the state which I attend to are dealt with within smaller chambers scattered across the length and breadth of the complex. I may often retreat to small rooms with closed doors and no windows, other times to spacious salons with their high windows looking down across the city, but very rarely do I ever order the proper Throne Room opened to the court.

Whereas the two chambers are similar in size and grandeur, there are key differences between the Great Hall and the Throne Room. Foremost of course, is the lighting. The skillful work of the artisans many generations ago allowed for the long south-facing wall to be covered with long panes of pristine glass. This of course allows for the glory of the daylight to shine upon guests before torches and moonlight are all which remain come the later hours.

Yet for reasons I have never come to understand, the Throne Room is completely without a ray of natural light. Instead, the gold inlay which scrolls along and up each of the seventy-odd pillars supporting the high roof are enchanted to give off a fey shine with a few spoken words. Whether this dimness is a result of some far gone longing for a gloomy atmosphere, or if the spells are simply weakening with time I am also at a loss as to decide. How strange it has always seemed to me however, that our Golden Land keeps its seat of power forever locked in twilight.

That seat itself is a true beast of a chair however, and I do not use the word lightly. As I settle myself down onto the lush blue silk across the seat which fades to violet and then a deep blue as it spills to the floor under my feet, I set my hand atop the golden head of one of the lions who each sit at my sides as the arm rests. The throne itself I can safely assume is either fabricated entirely of gold or at least the bulk of it is so. At my back, I can feel the wings of the mighty falcon -who has been my Kingdom's seal these twenty years past- spread out behind me as though they were my own. Over my head, I do not look up to see the sharply carved, realistically detailed bust of the falcon looming over me. Lions and falcons are what make this throne, reflecting the power, fostering the wisdom, and testing the courage of all the peoples of Hyrule… The three powerful triangles of the Triforce are masterfully suspended overhead. They are attached securely to the wall so as to not fall and crush a monarch, but when approaching in the dim light they give the impression of floating ethereally.

Yet for all that I am long since settled into my life and duties here as King, this seat and this chamber have simply never seemed to welcome me…

Absently, I spin the ivory cane of my position between my fingers, watching as the golden Triforce set within the sapphire head spins rapidly in response to the motion. As is to be expected, this chamber also lacks the accommodations for the rest of my court present in the Great Hall. Not a single seat save my throne is present within the entirety of this chamber, even were my wife still alive, she would simply stand at my side as Zelda and her betrothed are now.

Standing amongst and behind the pillars which mark a lone path from the doors across the chamber to this small dais where I sit, the faces of my courtiers hover like specters in the shadows. How rare it is to have so many people gather in one place without a word spoken, but honouring the return of Farore's Chosen is an event which carries a great burden of silence. Even here, with the many mountain of stone and iron between us and the summer sky beyond, faintly, one may still hear the low peal of the temple bells, however distant they may be…

I cannot tell if the Prince's completion has continued to pale of these past weeks as he stands to my left. It may simply be the sullen light, or perhaps the darkness of his clothing which makes his cheeks appear hollowed and eyes sunken, but he does not look well today. I note with a slight hint of amusement how his wardrobe has slowly increased in complexity over these long weeks. There is the faintest trace of lace ruffling up under his chin in the courtly style, as well as at his wrists. But perhaps the extra polish on his boots is more to keep people from worrying over his health so much.

Although I do not turn my head to look at her, I can all but feel some sort of odd anxiety about my daughter where she stands promptly to my right. From the corner of my eye without trying to hard, I can just barely catch sight of her gloved hands fidgeting with the seam of her pale green gown. She did not look comfortable when she approached the dais a few minutes ago, her eyes downcast but searching over everything around her as though nearly frantic, something troubling her greatly from the inside…

Aside from we three, the Dais is clear, not even Ladkehan stepping forwards as his face is as the many others. They are hardly discernable as the best light in this chamber is focused on myself and several feet directly before the rise.

I know from memory now that every hall and corridor of the castle is utterly silent now. I do not know why this is the ritual our people follow when the Hero is returned from his tasks assigned by the gods, but the first time he returned to Hyrule after an extended absence was before he even had come to live within the palace proper. I remember that day clearly, even as it was many weeks after the return of my child from when she ventured to Labrynna years ago following the dark signs of her dreams. When the bells tolled that day, I do not know why each person shunned the light of the courtyard or Great hall to meet with the returning boy, each person filing silently into this chamber and awaiting him to honour his triumphs and sacrifices. Perhaps it was the gods bidding us pay homage to a boy who could succeed where no man would tarry…

Slowing the spinning of the staff between my fingers, I watch the triangular seal swirl several more times before prying my eyes from it properly. Looking down the length of the chamber, the floor is of stone with rich colours and designs marking it, but in this light they go all but unseen. The high doors are a portal of darkness which no eye can penetrate from where I sit waiting. Only a few more minutes; and then perhaps the celebrations taking place beyond the palace walls will begin within them as well.

My mind has hardly a moment more to wander from this point before the sound reaches me. At first I hear only the slow, steady scuffle of footfalls across the stone corridors just beyond the doors- sound does carry so well without the light. But I find my curiosity suddenly struck as it is not one set of boots which reaches my ears, but two instead. How strange, who would there be to accompany him at this time?

I assume, as has become the case with myself, the majority of my court is greatly accustomed to the greatly informal nature of Farore's Chosen. Of these past several years, it is often quite rare not to see him in the midst of some manner of jest or lightening an otherwise dreary mood with a bit of childlike banter or tomfoolery.

When he first came to live within these stone walls, he was not nearly so lighthearted. Few would believe it now, but at the time the Hero was very shy, always quiet, and slow to become excited over any one thing. For a long while, perhaps the entirety of that first year, I had feared that the trials of his destiny had robbed a young boy of his childhood. Blessedly, once he became more accustomed to his new life here within the castle, he regained that spark most young boys have.

So, to see him now needless to say, is quite a shock to my old heart…

The shadows are slow to reveal the forms of the two making their way towards me. I recognize the Hero instantly although his posture and body language are alien when applied to the young man I know. Shoulders slumped as though bearing a heavy burden not yet released from him, stepping forwards with a calm grace belittling any sense of security. I don't know how from this distance I can see it, but his eyes, they hold such an… intensity… something hidden within them which I have never seen before. Am I not looking upon Link, the Knight of Hyrule, born from the Kokiri woods? Instead, is this… Farore's Chosen, the Hero of Time..?

Holding his left hand out to his side as he walks, I can see how his fingers curl in as a hard fist. My senses perk up immediately as I can feel the distant tingle of ancient magic, something older than the world itself coming forth. It starts as a low haze, but a golden light is slowly born from his hand, sharpening into the crisp golden lines of the Triforce, the bottom left portion of the symbol glowing brighter than the two other shards.

I almost don't hear the tiny sound Zelda makes, her own left hand coming up across her right shoulder as a similar light begins to awaken from within her. The Triforce again is visible on my child's hand now, mimicking the Hero's as the two portions of the golden power respond to one another. Allowing myself the shyest turn of the head, I am able to see her more clearly now. Slowly I note how the tension in her body slowly seeps away, the anxiety in her eyes calming as though the power were a hot flame burning through mist.

Even with the light of the Triforce adding to the rays parceled out through the chamber, the Hero's companion is still a mystery to me. Covered with a cloak whose colour is lost in the shadows, I can tell from the rhythm of the steps that it is a woman, the occasional ray of gold glittering across the lower half of her face, but there is nothing for me to identify her by. I cannot help but find myself distinctly curious as to who she may be.

A soft gasp from the Prince to my left momentarily pries me from my pondering, and I am not given a chance to resume it as protocol is abruptly dismissed. The dais I sit upon is a place reserved for my royal family and I, to be approached but never climbed by another while I am present. But the Hero, whom I have always known to be somewhat lax in the matters of proper etiquette, dismisses this silent law as he does not slow his approach. I watch as he boldly climbs the two short steps up to the dais towards where the three of us stand. That look in his eyes, it's-

I can feel confusion compete within me for presence over the inkling of anxiety building deep inside. The Hero's eyes hold rage, muted, but still true. I find myself trying to speak yet faltering for words as his attentions are not even upon me at this point. Instead, I feel the composure of myself and my entire court abruptly shatter as the Hero's glowing hand takes hold of the front of the Prince's shirt, and hardly a moment later he is sent sprawling to the ground with blood streaming from his shattered nose.

"_Guards!_"

It is not my voice, but that of my nephew which brings the iron clad guards of my castle back from their stupor. Needless to say, I myself am breathless as the low golden light glitters off of threatening halberds, the axe-headed staves all angled at the Hero as the several armed men in the room all jump to attention. Somehow, seeing him **not **reach for the winged hilt over his shoulder makes him seem all the more threatening. Before I have a chance to properly regain myself, I am on my feet as the insult of his actions suddenly strikes me.

"What gall is this!?" I demand loudly, the young man before me not flinching even as I loom over him, the soldiers circling him moving their blades in closer lest he prove to have lost his mind along with his honor. Rudely, I shake Zelda's hands from my arm where she'd set her touch lightly. My temper is** not** uncalled for!

"Unless it is what you want, I will not stand for it." His eyes slide right past me as he speaks, the Triforce of Courage still shimmering faintly in his hand as his eyes see only my daughter beside me, a violet sheen across them in the golden light... But that tone in his voice; that complete and utter defiance behind each word, has this boy forgotten his place in my court?

"Link, what are you--?"

"Unhand him, Snake!"

It takes a moment for the words to register in my mind, my reaction delayed as I abruptly turn to face the cloaked woman. Her hood is still pulled up and over her face, obscuring it from me with the shadows of the dim room. But the sound of her voice holds a similar anger as that smoldering in the Hero's eyes, what scheme is this?

I hadn't seen Salvin separate himself from the crowd of nobility currently milling about in the shadows, clearly they are distressed as I am with this turn of events. Slowly, I watch as my nephew lets go of the Prince's arm where he was trying to help the other man up, Zelda's chosen gathering himself back up on his own, lifting one hand absently to dab at his bloodied face with his sleeve. The bleeding is not severe, already clotting although the lower part of his face is wet from the initial flow. For a moment, I could say that there is a jaded look in his eyes, but that look vanishes from him as he firmly sets his sights on the woman.

"How** dare** you speak to me in such a manner!" Salvin's temper is roused now, but I can hardly keep my attentions on everything long enough to call him down for it and restore order. Instead, I watch as the cloaked woman rounds on his fiercely, already having crossed towards him and the Prince, climbing the dais to do so and putting each of my guards on true alert.

"Then I'll dare it again! Take your bloody hands elsewhere!"

"Dismissed!" I bellow, the accusation from the woman's lips slower to reach the prying nobles watching from all sides. Salvin's eyes slowly widen as they strike him however, something menacing coming through the layers of calm about his face as this is far to public a place for more fraying nerves.

"All of you, dismissed! Be gone! Leave now!" I lift my arms for emphasis on the order, knowing the loss of face I have sustained thus far is great. But with the Hero of the Gods teetering on the brink of treason against me, and some shrouded woman dropping accusations of bloodshed I would rather the court fester itself in rumors than hear whatever else is to be spoken today!

"Guards, escort the Hero to his chambers." I order shrewdly, looking back down on the man staring up at the world defiantly. Those eyes, how familiar they seem to me now. Even lacking their carefree nature and light there is something within that near violet gaze which strikes deeply, dredges up old memories of blood and hate. I say to myself that there is the anger of treason broiling within, but when I saw those eyes before it was more a hatred for loyalties to be owed than a will to change the world…

"Zelda," My word spreads on the heels of the whispering rumors already being born on the lips of my court. Rustling skirts and scuffing boots the only sounds from the shadows aside from those low murmurs as the hall empties far swifter than one would expect it too. "Remain here, it is your place." She was not moving so as to follow my order to disband, but I watch her keenly as her eyes follow the Hero's retreating form. When he turned away from me, his eyes found hers and did not let go until he began walking, my guards still forming a tight circle around him even with their staves held up at their shoulders instead of pointed at him for emphasis.

"You filthy little peasant, know your place!"

"Watch your tongue or next time you'll not keep it!"

I needn't strain my eyes to watch my daughter now, hearing the heated argument still kicking along behind me as the final silk-swathed noble takes their leave. Not a single bow to me or the Hero was offered, but with good cause as I can hear the stones themselves whispering with gossip. The only ones who remain are fresh guards to replace those leaving…

As I watch her now though, I am left without words as Zelda brings her left hand up and rubs it curiously between the fingers of her other one, no golden glow emitting, but somehow I can still feel ancient powers swirling as she looks to me. Whereas the Hero's eyes held something familiar for me, the fey look in hers is alien, I would almost say that she is... wary... as she speaks, something slowly dawning on her as the words slowly come.

"No, Father..." What? "It is but..." Her eyes fall, but not in the way they would in shame before me, there is nothing defiant despite her words as she searches those which might convey her meaning. Somehow my focus on her drowns out the harsh comments from those beyond me.

"So is with him." I can't even say her name as she descends the dais, faintly catching sight of her Shadow as Impa spares me a look as confused as the one spreading across my own face...

Him?

* * *

Nayru… It's her, it's really her. Her face is bruised and battered, midnight hair shinning blue in the dim light, tangled and coated in weeks worth of travel dirt and grime. Her fingers feel so warm where they've threaded through mine, her other hand resting on the same arm she's already holding, standing at my side almost defiantly.

The anger in her voice, the callous meanings behind her words, it's all foreign to me. I've never seen her like this, so angry and brash, but at the same time I can feel her trembling next to me. She's shaking so much, trying to hide it under the thick fall of her cloak. It makes me want to put my arm around her, try to calm her down as I can hardly hear her words anymore, fury and fear blazing in her eyes and keeping me silent.

I'm frightened too though, so terrified I can't take my eyes from her. It's as though I know that if I shift in the slightest or look away for a moment, she'll be gone again. Or if I touch her, or try to move her in any way, she'll shatter. I've never been more afraid to breathe in my entire life…

Who hurt you? That's what I want to say, if I could force a sound past my lips I know those would be the first words. She's been hurt before, been through harsh realities and trials many would succumb to the burden of. But this, it feels so different to me, as though someone's smothered the real Nayru under all these layers of grime and fear. I know she's still there under it all, I can see it in her eyes, but that same gaze also holds fear, thick and choking. Who hurt you? Why does it feel as though she's clinging to me, as though afraid I'll try to run away from her?

"Tysan, Dandale, Morrison, Raoul, Gwaiden…" I think my heart… just stopped beating. "I won't let their murderer come near their Prince."

"What did you say?" Soft, so hushed I can hardly hear the words through the shadows creeping through the ominous darkness of the throne room. I know I can hear Salvin's voice as he whispers the question softly, but softer still is mine. For a moment, I can forget my fear, my hands coming to rest on Nayru's arms, twisting and pulling her towards me, forcing her to face me as I hold her firmly. Why does she feel so frail?

"What… did you just say?"

"Forgive and old man…" I've always been taller than Nayru, and some how pry my eyes from hers now to look over the top of her head towards the King. I don't quiet know what to make of him, he looks dazed, almost confused. It's so strange to see him like this, almost… weak.

"But my nephew is in the right to question it, who are you, Young woman, to make such allegations?" He didn't always look so old to me, so tired, whenever he mentioned his age in formality, I'd always just dismissed it as just that; formality. But now, I can see gears turning behind his eyes, but it's slowed from what I've become accustomed too. Grating, difficult, the numbers don't seem as though they're adding up in his mind.

"I am Nayru, Oracle of Ages. Acting Regent of Labrynna in the absence of her Prince…" Or, perhaps… they finally are.

"Ah… I see…"

"Majesty, that is preposterous!" I don't think I've ever heard Salvin's voice break like that, my hands unconsciously running up and down her arms as I look towards the Hylian Lord. I've never seen so much fury blazing behind one man's eyes before either, and am suddenly very aware of the blades strapped to my arms under my sleeves as his gaze is locked onto Nayru. I'm at a loss as she turns from me to face him again, chin held high as I recognize the Oracle when about to deliver a hefty blow.

"…The Lord Salvin of Hyrule said the same thing to me once…" Sometimes, it's almost alright to be frightened of her. Nayru is human, entirely mortal and with all of the flaws and perfections of any other woman.

"He then raised a glass in toast to his dying queen…" But sometimes you remember who she can be on the inside; what powers the avatar of the Goddess Nayru possesses.

"And praised himself for the murder of her husband- Raphael of Ambi, Prince of Labrynna- mere moons into their marriage." Never underestimate the power of words… That's something only years of playing foolish courtly games has taught me.

"Lying filth!" The weakness which has plagued me these past weeks if forgotten, the numb pain scrawling across my face from Link's strike is dulled. All those sinking feelings and second-guesses are dismissed. I finally feel the heat of the season as fire flashes up my veins, coiling around my heart before firing down to the tips of my fingers.

"Lose your tongue indeed." I hiss blackly, I don't even feel myself move. Salvin dares to take one threatening step towards Nayru, and suddenly I'm between them. I didn't even feel the knife come loose from my sleeve, but the balance of the weapon is familiar to me. The flat of the blade is balanced precariously atop my fingertips, the handle toggling back and forth against my thumb.

"…Salvin." I think the numbers have finished tumbling in His Majesty's mind, the gears spinning fluidly now as I can all but see him suddenly jumping on ahead of me.

"As my… final… Charity to your mother; depart. And do so quickly and quietly." I thought him old and weak a moment ago, but now conviction makes his words sharp; the King of this castle is still King of his people. As I watch Salvin's face slowly pale, furious eyes darting about in a disbelieving manner as though the shadows hold some solace for him, I can't even read his expression. Somewhere in there is fury, insult, even pain, but as his gaze swings about to me again I just spin the knife once more across my fingertips for emphasis.

He doesn't even bow. Simply turns on his heel and walks.

* * *

**In Twilight Princess, the Throne Room of Hyrule Castle is located at the top of the obnoxiously high tower which takes up the bulk of the actual building. While I do like the actual set up of the chamber and its design, it didn't quite fit with my story. In most hand held games it's the central chamber of the castle leading into various other wings, which is impractical. And in Ocarina of Time, I believe one of the windows looking in from Zelda's garden goes straight into the throne room. So, as with most other things, I dismissed and reworked the entire chamber and layout for this chapter. **

**Finals Monday/Tuesday -screams-. Wish me luck, I update now since I shall be stressed to unhealthy levels this weekend. -screamscramscries- I WANT UNIVERSITY, PLEASE NAYRU GIVE ME 80!! -criesmore-**


	35. Chapter 35

**Thought I'd be done by 35. Bah…**

* * *

**Matters of the State**

Chapter Thirty-Five

"It's not enough."

"He can't very well imprison a man who hasn't done anything yet."

"_Yet_,"

"Nayru," By Farore's Wrath, she's mad at me. I hate it when she's mad at me, it happens so rarely I can never tell what it is_ exactly_ that's finally stirring her temper. Stopping in the hall, I can practically hear the low murmur of rumors being born and prospering in the castle air. I stop her with me, being more gentle than before as I turn her towards me, hands on her shoulders carefully as she's still shaking as she was short minutes ago within the throne room. I don't think it's from nerves any longer though, there's too much insult and anger in her now for that.

"Stop, tell me what's going on." Damn it, woman; you only just got here, slow down for a moment!

"Only if you'll explain it to me first." Mad at me, mad doesn't begin to describe it. I can't name the emotions fighting back and forth behind her eyes as she stares up at me defiantly. There's a red tinge to her eyes which tells me tears might be on the horizon, and I feel my stomach twist at the thought of that.

"Nayru, I don't even know where to start, tell me what's going on!" The sound of my own voice gives me a start for a moment; I hadn't meant to yell like that! Out of habit, I look up and down the lengths of the corridor, finally coming to my rooms. I swing the door open and have her walk with me inside.

"Majesty, Orac—" I sweep right past Percy as the small man leaps to his feet, my hand on Nayru's arm as I feel as though I'm dragging her across the chamber. Despite that feeling however, as I open the way towards the actual bedchamber- I don't intend to have this conversation with an audience!- it's Nayru's hand which slams the door shut behind us, not mine.

"Do you love her?"

"What!?" There's only one shut doorway, but I let myself shout anyways, to hell with these stupid courtly manners! "What in Din's Hells are you talking about!?"

"Zelda, now answer me!" She undoes the clasp of her cloak with enough force to tear the fabric, tossing it onto a nearby chair before placing her hands on her hips. I'm so used to seeing her in skirts that it's almost a shock to have her dressed like Farore; brown britches and a white top, scuffed with dirt and grime from head to toe from summer travel. The long black of her hair-almost blue even in this light- is braided tightly behind her head, but strands still escape the knots to curl across her face in a mess... By the gods I've missed her...

"No… No I don't." I can't believe myself, I've been trying for weeks now to say that to anyone else, and this is the only time the words actually come. I don't feel angry or insulted at all as I watch Nayru's face twist painfully, feeling so pitiful instead as her hand comes up and my world is sent spinning.

"Then **_why_** are you doing this!?"

"I don't know!" Gods, I feel panicked, jumpy, her raised voice causing mine to spike up as well. My head feels light from pain as my words slur together, blood spilling over my top lip and into my mouth from my injured nose. "They're like dogs, all of them! Vicious, rabid dogs!" Damn it, I must be a sight with my face all bloody like this. Turning away from her for a moment, I can hardly lift my sleeve up to try and wipe away the crimson without causing myself more pain.

"I should never have let you come here alone…" I have to look around at this.

"What are you, my nanny?" I suddenly very badly wish the words back into my mouth, but to no avail as she reaches into the fall of her vest. Oh, Din that was not smart of me. She's just going to stab me now and be done with it- I've never heard of a man being stabbed by a kerchief, but I'm sure that if anyone could Nayru would find a way to do it.

Yes, I'm aware that I'm being an idiot now. But I just keep silent from this point on as she takes my hand and tugs me towards the side of the chamber, gesturing for me to be seated as she makes her way to the wash basin nearby. She seems calmer now for some reason, but I'm still pretty sure she's mad at me…

"Ralph…" Lifting my gaze up from where I was staring at my boots, she isn't looking at me, just pouring a bit of water into the basin before swishing the kerchief around in it for a moment. "Do you remember the skunk?" What?

"What are you…?" I just let the words trail off as she picks up the basin and turns to me. Watching as she sets the bowl down on the floor next to my chair, I don't argue as she lifts the moist cloth and takes my chin in one hand, wiping away the blood in a much gentler manner than I would have expected.

"It was spring, don't you remember?" She asks, her voice calm as though she wasn't furious with me a moment before. "A skunk, it wandered into the house through the front door…" Wait, now I remember! Damn it, I am not going through this conversation again, no I am not!

"Nayru, I did **_not_** need a stick. Everything was under control." She just sort of sniffs at me, and I narrow my eyes as I take the kerchief from her, reaching over the arm of the chair to rinse it off in the bowl before taking care of my own mess myself.

"Considering the stench that followed you around for several days, you did and it wasn't." I can't _believe_ we're going over this again, Nayru simply settling herself down onto the ottoman in front of my chair, arms folded and head held up high.

"If the door had been _closed_ in the first place-"

"If the door had been_ fixed _so that it **could **close-"

"It _was_ fixed!" We're going over this again, Din, why are we once again fighting about this stupid, stupid thing!? I just grit my teeth despite the pain as I watch as Nayru once again stands, this time fisting her hands on her hips in a thoroughly annoyed manner and staring me down in a way I certainly don't like.

"How so, when _the hinges weren't even screwed onto the frame?_"

"That pillar was rotten! The whole wall needed to be taken down!" She's like a cat sometimes, a cat who hates water and was just doused with a bucketful. Turning her back on me as I speak, I finally push myself to my feet as well. Damn it! I want her to look at me when I'm speaking to her!

"Then why fix the roof!?" I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. No, I don't want her to look at me right now. The glare she sends over her shoulder at me, I can feel my resolve just sort of shrivel up and die. Oh, Farore help me. It's all I can manage not to blurt out the apology all in one go. Oh-no! I don't like how this is going, but she was most defiantly the one to start it! _'Do you remember the skunk,'_ my foot!

"Because--!! Because--!!"

"Hmm? Because why?" Tongue, not, moving. All she did was turn around and look at me, and now I'm tongue-tied with the words all backing into one another up my throat. Blanks, I'm just drawing blanks. Damn it, I am not this incompetent!

"Because that damn hovel's been falling apart since we were kids!" Of course, that has to be the first manageable sentence past my lips. And obviously once the first words come out, the rest are swift to reorganize and follow. "It's beyond fixing. The roof leaks, the cupboards creak; the shelves are falling off the walls. In the winter it's drafty, the spring rains soak through everything, fall the floor all turns to mud inside, and in summer Farore Alone knows how many creatures try moving in with us!" Shut up, shut up! Enough already! This isn't how this argument is supposed to end, it doesn't finish like this! We've been through it enough times; it's like a well rehearsed play for us. I can see it in her eyes; that muted confusion and surprise as I just throw away the script even though I know I really shouldn't.

I can't stop, I just can't. It's happened only so many times before, my mind keeps telling me to stop, but my mouth just keeps going. It's like I'm detached from myself, floating around overhead watching me make a fool of myself. But this time, it's not the same, nothing's fading in and out of sight, my voice doesn't sound like someone else's, like some strange person is taking over to control me and write my words out for me.

"By Din's Blazing Infernos! What sort of Prince am I supposed to be if I can't even provide for the one person who could ever be my-" Ack! No! That's more than enough! I can't even tell if it's nerves or my mind finally starting to break through that weird wall between my thoughts and words. "Be my…" It's only starting though…

"I'm not your nanny…" Of course not, you stupid woman, so don't cry now. The saving grace is how she doesn't break down into sobs and make me think I've done something wrong. I don't even know how long it takes for us to meet one another, but she feels so thin; so frail as I wrap my arms around her.

"My..."

I don't try to kiss her; don't run my hands along her back or through her hair. I don't rock her back and forth as though she were a child or sweep her off her feet like a bride in a fairy tale. I just hold her, that's all it takes.

"…My Princess…" I've felt so cold for weeks now, weak and tired, as though everything's been shutting down from the inside moving out. There's no blazing heat between us to try burning all of that away though, no sudden hunger tearing through me. There's still a warmth though, but it's something soft and soothing, like calm water or the lull of a harp.

Like warm summer days along the rivers threading through Lynna woods. Hours spent doing nothing more than checking traps for dinner, and listening to the Oracle sing…

"Let's go home…"

* * *

"Halt."

Do I look like a fool now? Have I disgraced myself yet? Here I am, promised to a man and yet running down the halls of the castle chasing after another. But I can't just stop now, how can anyone ask that of me? I've waited for so long for him to come home, and now that he's here I won't just let him be treated like a prisoner!

At least I've caught up with them, Impa's footsteps shadowing mine as I lift my skirts just enough so that I don't trip over them. I don't know how many members of the nobility I've passed who've tried to flag me down, now just isn't the time to be social!

Already we've come to the corridor lined with all the crests of my father's knights. The only one among them which is so plain to the eye draws mine inexplicably as I near it. The guards my father had escort Link from the throne room are milled about his chamber door, on edge and perhaps almost intimidated by their task. After all, this is the Hero of the Gods, how must they feel to treat him as an enemy?

"I said ha-"

"Sir Link!" Formal class is thrown to the wind with the startled cry from one soldier. I find myself suddenly at a run down the remaining length of the hall as the cry is echoed repeatedly by the other men.

"Make way for your princess!" Impa's voice is at my heels and finally is what brings the attention of the guards to me. Three of the seven are kneeling on the ground just within and next to the doorway, Link's boots visible to me where he's sprawled face down across the floor.

"He's exhausted, Majesty." The men all rise and move away a respective distance as I reach them and quickly drop down next to the fallen hero. I listen to them with only half a mind as I place my hand down on his back, silently relieved to feel the dull throb of his heart and the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Beaten, dirt smeared and scuffed from head to toe, his golden hair is so caked in grime it's nearly brown. His eyes are closed, but there's a look of discomfort- if not pain- lining his face. He doesn't even look like Link, his green tunic absent of course as a dark brown one of leather and wool covers his torso in its place. Under all the dirt and sweat, he looks so pale lying there, I'm almost afraid to look at him like this.

"Get him to bed." I feel numb and cold on the inside, but my voice doesn't falter as I give the order. "You two, carry him." How do I manage the control or the grace? I simply rise from the floor without a single falter, allowing my skirts to whisper softly as I move out of the way. The two red-clothed soldiers I motioned towards hand off their weapons to other members of the group before swiftly but carefully lifting Link's prone form and carrying him inside.

"The rest of you are dismissed. Return to your regular duties." I don't need to address the remainder of the entourage either, Impa's cold voice cutting through the silence I can feel swirling around me.

My thoughts are all a mess as I just blindly watch as Link is carried away. I feel as though I'm being tugged in two opposite directions. All those subtle nags which have been bothering me these past weeks are suddenly strengthened and emphasized seeing him here again now. Exhaustion goes hand and hand with injury; shouldn't I help him, or at the very least make sure my help is not needed? Or do I obey all the whispers and codes which state a promised woman is not to be seen in the company of an unmarried man, let alone in his chambers…

"You've not once spoken against your father since you were a child." I can hardly hear the rattling stomp of the guards as the two return and march off with the other five. Impa's voice to me is very soft, the words low where she stands just off to my right.

"I don't know anymore, Impa." I answer quietly, the doors to Link's chambers still open to his antechamber, the bedroom beyond that also open by a shy amount. Why does it look like such a long walk? "I know what I don't want, there are so many things I want to never have happen, but I don't know what should be there to take their places."

"Wisdom is weak without the courage to uphold the truth." She moves slowly although I can scarcely hear her do so, her hands resting on my arms gently where she stands behind me as a true shadow. "And courage is brash and destructive without wisdom to guide it." What do I do? The words are nearly on my lips before she speaks again…

"I have some business to attend to, Zelda." But that wasn't… what I was expecting her to say. I turn without meaning too as both her hands and presence are gone from me… For a moment I feel almost as a child whose mother has shaken them from her skirts. I don't know what the look must be which is scrawled across my face, but Impa's dark eyes give me a peculiar look behind the fall of her white bangs.

"What?" I don't even know the words to describe how I feel. It's not empty or hollow, I don't feel afraid or truly anxious, I'm not saddened, not even stunned. I feel… more like I'm floating, as though something's been severed between myself and the rest of the world. I'm floating, just drifting through my own thoughts, my body feeling so heavy and yet my mind just wandering off where it wills. Impa's words are all but a fading echo to me.

"Don't look to me for your answers, child. You should be old enough now to take control of yourself, isn't that what you've been asking for all along?" Isn't it just? I can't even find the words to answer her, Impa merely shaking her head, nodding respectfully before murmuring something about a gardener and turning away from me.

Wisdom needs courage to have itself heard…

"Majesty! Mistress Impa!" And Courage needs wisdom to stay true to itself. What a dream-like quality everything's taken, I hardly even notice Link's squire come bounding down the halls towards us. Goodness, he looks almost as bad as his lord, all splotched with mud and layered in grime. Why is he wearing a grown man's tunic? In this heat?

"By the gods, boy! You don't need to roll around with the pigs, just watch over them from the gate!" Clearly, he hasn't only captured my attentions, but Impa's as well. I watch as he finally reaches us, looking nervously towards his Lord's chambers before remembering himself and bowing lowly to me. He even has a grown soldier's helmet swinging around on his head, what a fool he looks dressed like that.

"Majesty, Mistress Impa, what's going on?" I can't help myself, even in this nub state I nearly laugh as he looks back and forth between us in a stunned manner. His face and voice are serious and concerned, but as he whips his head around the visor of his helmet comes snapping down across his face unexpectedly. "Everyone's talking and saying different things; My Lord is to be put to death? He married the Oracle of Seasons? My Ladies, some are even saying the goddesses themselves have descended unto the world again!" The comedy of the situation is quickly spent it seems…

"Impa, if you could put off your duties…?" I suggest hopefully, watching as my shadowing mentor simply nods to me before looking back down to my smaller cousin again.

"Calm yourself, boy. No one is being put to death, come with me and get cleaned up, I'll have you running the true story around as soon as you stop reeking of filth… Princess." I nod to her as she gives a bow to me this time, my cousin props his visor up before offering a bow himself, nearly unbalancing his dwarfed form and sending the entire helmet toppling to the floor. Nayru, don't tell me anyone's recognized him in that get up…!

They both turn and leave without a word more, Timothy shyly glancing once over his shoulder towards me, the oversized helmet held in one hand as he follows on Impa's heels. I can read it in his eyes, he's concerned above all else for Link's safety, as am I.

His chamber doors have never seemed more forbidding to me, how strange considering they're wide open for me now. Even when I entered them while he was absent, it was little more than just a little dreary to be inside, draining on me. But now, standing here all alone and knowing the entire palace is already rife with talk of scandal and dishonour, it's more difficult than ever to make myself move.

I just want to see him, the fool. I just want to make sure he's really here and that he's alright. I've missed him so much; it isn't fair that he should be aloud to vanish like that for an undetermined amount of time. It leaves me with too many worries…

I don't know how, but today I just seem to be finding strength without previously having it. I won't say his rooms feel any lighter already, everything coming to have been covered in a thin sheen of dust after the better part of the summer has seen these chambers vacant. The windows are still all covered, and although I could part the drapes, it doesn't feel right to disturb anything just yet. All I can manage is to close the door behind me, and for a moment I can hardly breathe as everything is just so silent in here…

How I have the gall to name him a fool and then find myself thus is almost disgusting. Others may live here, true, but this palace is my home, I should not feel shame or fear upon entering any of its chambers. The man who resides in these rooms, I trust him above all others, I fear for him as well, what could make this at all wrong then? Foolish codes and whispers, that's all; I have my honour, don't I? I wouldn't sully it, no matter what any gossips might find themselves twittering over.

My slippered feet whisper across the rugs and dark wood of the floors, crossing to the bedchamber and I find myself frozen again as I rest my hands along the frame. It's all so silent, so dark and almost like the den of a beast, but honestly, why am I so afraid? Is it even fear? I can feel my throat going sore for all that I've hardly spoken today, my head aches as my eyes try to pry through the shadows which swallow the contents of the next room almost completely.

Those guards must indeed have been shaken, some of my resolve coming back to me as I step within the bedchamber proper and feel a sharp sting of disapproval. The savior of our lands and many more, a man chosen by the gods to carry out their designs; one of my fathers' most esteemed knights and a friend to most of the others as well all up and down the ranks… And yet I stand here now able to see that those other men simply tossed their Hero fully clothed onto the bed and then scampered away with their tails between their legs.

Turning back to the chamber before this one, I quickly take up one of the candel-sticks resting atop one of the tables. Link's chambers are not the most decorated, but that does not mean he does not keep items which make them functional. I do not busy about trying to find flint or tinder for the wick either, instead, I fist my left hand loosely, feeling a tingle run across my hand and arm, a soft warmth bursting within my chest before flowing down along the lines of that earlier charge. Touching the tips of my fingers to the wick I can feel the energy flow through me and into the wax-coated cord. Heat, light, a small sparkle of magic, and I look back to the bedroom without anymore doubts.

There's so little light in these rooms when the windows are covered, but if Link is to awaken I don't want it to be by having harsh daylight sent flashing across his face. Holding the candle high enough for the light to spread in a golden pool before my feet, I'm not nearly as familiar with this room as the antechamber where we've often spent evenings speaking and enjoying one another's company. Setting the light down on a small table next to the bed however, I can finally get a proper look at him, and see what needs to be done.

Sheets can be washed at any time, but even in the red light of the candle I can tell he really is pale. It's not worth it to wake him up for the sake of bedding which's likely grown stale over all these weeks unused. Instead, I can at least try to make him more comfortable. I can see chain mail edging the hem of his tunic, a few of the dirtied links twinkling in the low light.

I try not to wake him up as I roll him onto his side, finding it to awkward and useless to try fighting at all with the covers. What he needs now is sleep for what it is, once he's regained some of his energy I'm sure he'll be more than willing to wash up before going back to bed properly. I'll have to get him onto his back eventually, but the first order is removing the gold clasped length of the Master Sword still strapped to his back.

It's heavier than I'd have thought it to be, I don't know why though. I've held swords of this style before, long swords which can be wielded with one or two hands dependant on the swordsman. Perhaps I had thought that Farore's Blade would be lighter than a weapon of normal steel. I'm also surprised by the grip of it, holding it by the wings and hilt as I drag it from the bed to place next to it against the walls. Normally swords have lengths of leather wrapped around the hilts for grip and comfort, but all my hand meets is the oddly warm and unnamable material of the sword hilt, the hard edges digging into my fingers before I let it rest with a dull clatter against the wall.

That done, I pause for a moment to notice his lack of shield, but there's nothing I can do about that. Instead I simply go back to what I was doing; namely letting him roll the rest of the way onto his back. It takes a few minutes for me to fight his boots off, and I keep my eyes open for any signs of injury as I undo the laces and straps of his gloves to pull them off as well. Like most of my father's knights, he has the rough, scarred hands of a warrior, but I'm careful with them anyways. I can't help but frown as I note the raw scrapes of reins held to tightly, the skin is hot to the touch although I can see the marks are old, so that can only mean he didn't take the time to tend to his own needs while traveling…

"Hero perhaps, but still a fool…" I whisper softly, brushing a few strands of his matted hair out of his eyes. The tunic and mail next, and then I'll leave him to sleep. This outfit is different from his normal attire; although I call it a tunic really it's more akin to body armor, wool and leather pads making up the bulk of it, showing me it's clearly not his.

The leather laces along his sides are too hard to undo with my hands gloved as they are, and I set the green pair down on the table next to the candle for a few minutes. Of course, there's still the task of getting the bulky article up over his head and off.

At this, I have to hesitate though, just stand here a moment with the light of the single candle wavering softly in an unfelt draft. He looks so exhausted, fallen into a deep slumber, but oddly I don't feel a sense of peace coming from him. For a moment I consider pouring some water from the basin on the table nearby, wanting to wipe away at least a few layers of grime from his face. But, I then remember that since these rooms haven't been used over the course of the summer, there probably isn't anything there to pour.

If anyone were to walk in now, what would I tell them? Lifting my skirts with a slight rustle, I sit on the bed up behind him, working my hands under his shoulders and head trying to push him up into a seated position. I feel a pang of sympathy for him as he gives a soft groan, and suddenly regret having moved him as he starts to tip over, one of his hands coming down however to stop him from doing so.

"I'm sorry, but you'll sleep better without all of that on…" I whisper softly, watching the light play off the dirtied blond of his hair as he shakes his head in a sluggish manner, as though trying to clear his thoughts. Edging forwards, I don't even know if he heard me or not, not sure how awake moving him could have caused him to be. I should perhaps just move, stand and walk around so that we can see one another. But for some reason I can't bring myself to get up, the idea of it-although logical- just doesn't seem right.

"I've missed you so much…" Somehow it feels so much better to move closer to him instead, to place my hands on his slumped shoulders and rest my head against the curve of his neck. I can't pretend he doesn't smell strongly of travel dirt and horses, of many days –perhaps weeks- of uncleanliness, but it doesn't bother me just now. I can look past it all just knowing he's come home again.

I'm almost… hurt by the lack of reaction from him. Link's shoulders rolling back once tensely before his hands reach for the collar of the tunic, forcing me to move as he pulls the thick, cumbersome tunic up over his head with a tired and frustrated grunt. I know from experience that he isn't talkative when woken up unexpectedly, or after having been sleeping at all, but I almost take the lack of response as rude.

"Link," Why do I need him to acknowledge me? Standing, I don't bother smoothing out my skirts as I just end up bunching them together again as I place myself in front of him now. I didn't need to speak with him a moment ago, when he was asleep, why is it so important to me all of the sudden that he look at me and respond to my words?

To look at him now from this angle, the candle nearly behind him but for a few degrees, I can hardly see his face at all, only the pale stony blue of his eyes where they're half-lidded and only partly focused. But no, I know he's awake, only just drifting in that half-realm of sleep and not. I know he's exhausted, and that he needs nothing more than a chance to just sleep uninterrupted. I'll admit I still know nothing as to what he's been through all these long weeks, but I can't keep myself silent now, I feel as though I've been biting my tongue all summer.

"Link," Placing my hand against the side of his face, it's as though I've suddenly gathered his attention, all of it. At my touch, I watch as his glazed eyes blink before opening properly. Sleep still drags them down again though, his head not lifting with true wakefulness, but what attention he can spare from himself I know is given to me.

I don't even know what I'm supposed to say to him, this reality making me suddenly feel both foolish and cruel as he's trying to listen and yet I have nothing to say. My thoughts simply scatter, and the soft, gentle feel of him leaning into my hand does little to help bring the words.

"What happened to you..?" I don't know how I can make it out in the dim light, that black void in the midst of the glittering metal covering his chest. Allowing my one hand to slip from where it was resting against his cheek, the fingers of the other swiftly move towards that portion of black. I nearly jump as the sharp feeling of torn metal grazes the tips of my fingers, the sharp sting of the metal drawing a faint trail of crimson.

Something, something punched right through the metal links… tore right through the spelled armor. What? And how? My thoughts are so wound up that I hardly feel his hand close around mine, I simply look to him again knowing the worry running through me is clearly etched across my face.

"Later…" His voice is so hushed; the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips as I finally notice how he's holding my hand. It's not a firm grip per-say, but I can feel the tips of his fingers moving across the back of my hand in a tender way. He gives a soft, husky laugh that's little more than a rough exhale, and any more words from me die as he gently lifts and touches his lips to the backs of my fingers.

"All of it… later… I promise." His breath is so warm; I can feel heat surging up across my face as my heart begins to thunder in my ears. I find myself nodding to him woodenly, quickly standing but allowing him to keep his hold on me as I turn my hand around in his until he lets go. Reaching for his collar again as he did with the tunic now sitting half inside out on the bed by his legs, the mail takes him a moment longer to tug and heave over his head. But it's only a moment, and as he finishes he lets the glittering mass of links slide to the floor with a metallic sigh.

This time he doesn't topple onto his side, or pass out dramatically as he did in the doorway. Instead I watch for a moment before helping him settle onto his side on the bedding. Absently I watch him tug at the summer quilts for a moment before he clearly reaches the same conclusion I did earlier; it's not worth the effort.

I should bring a chair over to the bedside, there are two set up near the bed which don't look to heavy to lift- they must be for himself and his squire. Instead, I ignore the already wrinkled lengths of green silk swirling about my ankles, simply lowering myself to my knees and then resting down on the floor next to him. His bed isn't so high that I can't see him anymore when I sit like this, although it is a bit of a stretch for my arm as I reach up to him again.

Sleep is so swift to take him, his eyes drifting shut even as his head just touches down on the pillows. It takes only a few moments more for his breathing to even out in to a slow, steady pattern. Now there's peace.

I should leave now, but I really don't want too. It's still only just past mid-day, but here with the daylight shut out I could convince myself it's past time for the moon to be setting. Beyond these chambers I know nothing more than matters of the state and noble wild-fire rumors are waiting for me to address them one after the other. But here there's peace. I've been waiting so long for this moment, for this silence. Just been waiting to find the strength to just stop running in these useless circles and let everything sort itself out- at least in my mind.

If someone were to walk in right now, what would I say to them? What could I say? Watching my own hand gently combing through the grimy, matted lengths of Link's hair, it's a question which doesn't send a tremble down my spine. What if Ralph opened the door? The Prince I'm promised to, if he saw me here, alone in the dark with another man all alone…

I think… I would finally tell him no. If it were my father, just no. Let them both come in, arm and arm with bards and minstrels playing and half the court in attendance.

I would tell them no. And I will.

* * *

**School's out! School's out! Chya!**

**There, romance, happy now? **


	36. Chapter 36

**Squee, reviewness and almost the end of the story! And my repertoire of stories in general here on Fanfiction has exploded recently, or so it seems. **

**Yay! I'm so proud of- well- me!**

**Cheers!**

* * *

**Matters of the State**

Chapter Thirty-Six

"Of where?"

"A castle in the southern province, Majesty." What a... strange question that. I pause my steps down the corridors of my palace to look towards the young woman following me. Without both the Prince Ralph and my daughter both announcing her as the Oracle of Ages, I certainly wouldn't recognize her as such. Even with a clean face and fresh set of cloths, she does indeed command a sort of attention, but it does not strike me as the same mystic feel standing before her counterparts- the Oracles of Seasons and Secrets- roused within me. I can believe her a noble woman without a doubt, well bred and mannered, but Oracle... It seems odd.

"My Lady, I assure you, there is no such place in my land."

"None at all?" My but this seems an odd discussion we're having. I would have thought it would be a matter of the now forgone wedding she would want addressed while trailing me down the hallways, but instead I find her questioning after the rooster of Hyrule's Nobility.

"Not since I was a man shy years younger than your Prince. You have my word on that."

"Who was he then?" Goodness me, child, I can hardly make to turn away and continue on my path before she fires yet another question at me. For all her presence and manners she doesn't quite know when she has been dismissed, and at this moment although I know it unwise to tempt an Oracle's insult, I am becoming rather impatient myself. This morning I awoke with only reasonable anxiety due only to the absence of the Hero of Time. But once the bells rang the world was put right; I had a settled, well-spoken man to become my son-in-law, my court was relatively free from any damaging gossip aside from what might provide the accent for Zelda's gown, and a Hero returning from weeks away to speak of the ease of the gods in the heavens above. Now, mere hours later, the wedding seems unsalvageable, my child is distraught beyond measure, my court is building itself into a blind frenzy, the Hero of Time is causing a mutinous scare, and I am being followed relentlessly by a very sharp-tongued young woman. My patience wear thin!

"Georg." Ah… even after all these years it still hurts to say that name. "A Knight of the former King; a man with unbridled loyalty and unquestionable honour. Many said the goddess Farore smiled upon him as a holy man for the years he protected the centre of her cult. He was caught on the wrong side of the war years ago however, and died with his fort." A good, noble man; one with the eyes of a cold beast when roused and grey as slate when in a state of calm. A truly wild man, yet with a heart of gold punctured by my own general's arrow.

"Had he no family? No nephews or sons who would rebuild his keep?" What a bothersome child this Oracle can be. I do not know whether I would find her this irritating at any other time, although the era she asks after is indeed painful and disturbing for me to revisit. For that matter, why does she not simply visit it herself? Oracle indeed…

"There were rumors of his wife being with child for many months of the war. Regardless of whatever the truth was, she died on the battle field." And there were too many amongst the dead for any man to stomach searching for a single child to fit any rumored age. The entire fort was razed that night; those who did not flee to safety likely did not survive… It was a very black night, one of the many blights across my old memory…

"No other family? No nephews or elder sons, brothers even to ever try taking his place once peace returned?" I cannot help myself, and simply stand here staring at her. Somehow, I cannot help but find this behavior most intrusive, if it not obvious that this subject displeases me at this time then I will have to question whether or not she is making proper use of her eyes. I am not hiding anything; I am making things quite clear in fact.

"Lady Oracle, there is no Lord of Faron Fief. My horse was not swift enough to catch the fleeing Lady that night her husband died. Several arrows found their marks instead. If there was ever any son, be it male or female, it died in the halls of its ancestors, on the field with its father, or in the arms of the mother who fled with it. Good day." And with that, I simply turn on my heel and at last hope to be rid of her meddlesome questions.

"Fled into the Kokiri woods…"

"…Oracle." I cannot keep the exhausted sigh from my words as, once more, I stop and turn to face her.

"Answer me one last question, Majesty, and I shall leave you to your duties." As though I am in a position to argue. Rather, is it that she should not be in the position to be making demands and setting conditions…

"Speak then…" How tiring these memories can be for an old man such as I…

"What were the colours of the Lady of Faron Fief?"

…That… requires a bit of thought. I know I could always deny the answer, keep myself from delving to deeply into memories best left to collect dust in the resesses of my mind. But, of course, I do not work that way, to find the answers too old questions is a challenge of sorts. Like an old tome left untouched in the Castle Library, I can practically feel the pages of my memory open up. Old, age-stained pages shake off the dust collected over the years of misuse, and I search unbidden for the information she seeks.

"I saw her only once before that terrifying night…" I admit softly. And for a moment, I can almost believe myself to be in the bitter years of my youth again, standing in the Market Place of the fief once more and engaged in conversation with a beautiful woman of spun gold. I hadn't even known she was the Lady at the time; she dressed modestly despite the wealth of her husband's hold.

"She had hair the colour of sunlight," Yes, she was sunlight I suppose. And her husband a wall of hardened stone, willing to do the utmost to defend her honour and her glory. He was a man of breadth and strength. I remember that as well, his grey eyes and dark hair dusted with silver.

"And her eyes were a brilliant blue…" That's right, that same evening I dined in the company of them both in the small tavern under the Inn I was staying at. I hadn't known their rank at all until that point. "In the light of the candles, they would turn such a shade that…"

"One would think them violet…" Oh… Oh, Farore… I cannot… hardly feel a thing, all I can see are those eyes, only set in a different face. The jewels from a delicate necklace set into a heavy ring… "Thank you, Majesty. Please, forgive my intrusion onto your most valuable time."

I can hardly even see her as the Oracle gives a low curtsey in the plain gown of blue and white another of the noble ladies within the castle- perhaps even Zelda- has allowed her to borrow- if not keep. By the gods, how could the mothers above be so cruel?

Or rather, as the Oracle turns and at last takes her leave of me, I find myself once again walking the path I had been a moment before. But now I find the anger I was harvesting to have now dispersed, not to be replaced with melancholy so much, but rather… Why, I don't even know how to describe it exactly, I'm almost giddy, but at the same time more stunned than had a random child amongst my servants run up and slapped me full across the face…

How cruel… or maybe… how kind?

* * *

After all these years and trials come by, I still find it all but ironic how there is one thing above all which I have never become properly accustomed too; and that is waking up filthy. This isn't to say I'm especially neat or tidy, or that I don't like getting dirty through hard work, but it's one of those things I just can't get over. Even as a boy, I would still be as willing as anyone else to go rolling along down a hill, but something about knowing I'm just lying in mine or something else's filth just- eugh! 

I just can't stand it, even now, when all I want is to sleep, I just can't stop focusing on the clammy feel of my hands, or the way the front and back of my shirt are _sticking_ to me. I don't know of anything more unpleasant, even with my legs sore from days in the saddle, shoulder aching after having the straps of my sword dig into it constantly without respite.

By Din's wrath, it's just creepy and sickening. If only my limbs didn't feel like dead weights… I'm not even hungry- even after not having had a full and proper meal since arriving in the Sanctuary weeks ago; I just want to be _clean_.

But it just takes so much effort to roll over… I stifle a groan as I don't even open my eyes as I move, cracking them open just once to find the room darkened anyways, only one or two candles burning. I have to stop moving for a moment though, wincing as even my fingers are sore and pleading for rest as I put weight on them trying to sit up.

"You needn't push yourself so soon, Sir Link." No, too hard, much too hard. I just feel myself dropping back down onto the bedding, knowing the blankets aren't even up over me as my head just sinks back down onto the pillows. It's a combination of hearing my name and feeling how matted and filthy my hair is as it presses against my skin again which makes me force myself to sit up properly.

I hate… getting up when I'm still tired, I really, truly do. I don't think there's anything else on a daily basis which is as annoying or infuriating as having to force myself out of bed when it's the very last thing I want to do. Perhaps the only thing worse is having to be civil at the same time…

"Well, if you insist…" And I think being civil is about my only option at the moment. Turning towards the sound of the voice, I can make out the blurred and discolored figure of His Majesty. He's sitting in one of the two chairs set up across the chamber from my bed… Damn it.

Stifling a groan as I force myself to sit up a bit more and scoot back on the bed, my shoulders along with every individual joint in my spine all ache in protest to moving at all. Resting against the headboard of my bed however, I try to force my eyes to focus in the dim lights. Damn, is it night time or is the room just dark? I can only see one candle lit from where I am, although it might actually count as two since it's a stick which branches off from itself…

"You'll have to forgive me, I never even noticed…"

"What are you talking about?" It hurts to speak, my throat feeling raw and my mouth dusty as though I haven't had a drink in several days. And I think my tone just threw civility out the window… Damn it I am _so_ tired… Why is he in here? I just want a bath and bed… I just want to _sleep_…

"Could you tilt your head to the side for a moment, please, Sir Link?" What in Din's blazing hells is going on? Still reclined in his seat, his Majesty gives a soft chuckle before nodding almost sheepishly to me. "Yes, I know it is an odd request, but please, bare with an old man for a moment…"

Am I going insane, or is this some sort of twisted dream? Either way, my head feels heavy enough to drop off my shoulders anyways, so I just let it fall a bit to the side, humouring him although I haven't the faintest clue what's going on. I don't know what he sees, but I straighten back out as his own eyes widen slightly, and he takes a sharp breath.

"Majesty?" Will someone please tell me what is going on? I don't even know how long I've been asleep already. Has it been a few hours? Only a handful of minutes? Zelda's nowhere to be seen, did I just dream her too? No… my armor and gear are all gone, so she was here, unless someone else came along and took my things from me… Ugh... it hurts to think on too hard…

"You really do have… your mother's eyes."

I think I'm awake now.

"What did you say?" Yes, I know this is the king I'm speaking with, but I can't help it. I don't get up and bow to him, don't try to speak in a courtly tone, or show some sort of respect or fealty for him. I only feel the pain in my body after I've actually moved, practically sitting on one leg as the other one dangles limply over the edge of the bed.

"Her eyes, I remember how they would change colour in the firelight." How can he… be so calm as he says that to me? I don't understand, he just sits there calmly, smiling even behind the silver length of his beard. I know His Majesty is wise, but why does he choose now to be cryptic as well?

"You knew her?"

"In passing, yes."

"And you never said anything about this until now." I nearly bite through my own tongue at this. I have a reputation for disregarding courtly manner, but the king is still_ the king. _He narrows his eyes somewhat as I know I've spoken to harshly, I know I should apologize, but I have a feeling that if I open my mouth again the same tone will come barreling on out. Instead, I actually do bite my tongue, shrinking in on myself almost. I don't need to be proud now; I need to let him tell me what he knows.

"…My parents died during your Majesty's rebellion years ago." The silence started to go on for too long, I guess he wanted me to speak. As I try to put the words together, that stern look in his eyes slowly melts away. Instead, it's replaced with a calm emotion I can't name in this light.

"Tell me, Sir Link," I only just noticed it now; he hasn't called me Hero once yet. Even placing the Honorary of my rank in front of it, this is the closest he's ever come to using just my name. "What is it you in fact know of your parents?"

…Nothing. I know only what an old man once told me. Locked away in the Sacred realm, beyond the door of time for several years which in truth never really did come to pass. An ancient specter found and spoke to me, the first sage of the seven I had to find… I think I was almost disheartening for me to find that he was to be of almost no use to me, only providing me comfort and guidance that one time before vanishing again beyond the door… I had only a fairy to stay with me for the entirety of that harrowing time.

"My father… he was a knight, but I don't honestly know from what part of the Kingdom. He fought in the rebellion and lost his life when his house came under attack." House, that of course could mean anything; he could've actually lorded over an entire hold, or served the man who did. We could even have lived in a small shack on the outskirts of the forest for all the word house really means when speaking in terms of decades.

It's odd really; there are so many records and documents from those terrible years when Hyrule was torn by war. I even live in the presence of the man who emerged victorious from those trials, but I've never actually looked very long or hard into anything available. I suppose it's because the questions are all so vague, I don't even know what either one looked like.

Imagine it, me walking up to Sir Ladekhan and asking him if he remembers ever killing a knight who probably looked a bit like me, or could've looked entirely different. Then asking his name and where exactly he lived, an impossible challenge for one man's memory, one man who might not've even been at the battles my father was present at. For all I know, he could've died in a riding accident before the first arrow was loosed.

"My mother though…" Sweet Din, the margin by which I can claim to know more about her than my father is pitifully small… "She was struck by arrows fleeing the battleground. She died in the Kokiri forest in the presence of the Deku Tree…" I don't even know my own name…

Again, silence. I find myself suddenly itching to speak up, to say something, anything at all. Instead though, I just force myself to keep my peace, I can practically hear the gears in His Majesty's mind grinding against one another as they slowly churn. Sometimes his mind can work as a well oiled machine. Other times, it takes him a long pause of careful consideration to come to a final decision. Some might find this to be an indication of His Majesty's growing age, but for myself, I know in part how valuable it can be to just sit and think things through, regardless of time or anxious listeners.

"Do you… have a map of the area? Around the Kokiri woods, where you were raised I mean." I hadn't noticed it until now, but as his Majesty gestures towards the candles absently, I notice a rolled up parchment sitting by the base of the candlestick. "I have my own here of course, from my campaigns years ago, but, I think it would be wise to compare…"

"Yes, in the desk over—" No, he's the king, I'm the knight, I'll get it. "One moment, please."

Am I even in a condition to walk? Judging by the sudden tremble which runs up my legs as I put weight on them, no, I'm clearly not. His Majesty raises one hand as though to stop me, but I shake my head and wave him away absently.

Sweet Nayru, the room keeps spinning…

I nearly walk right into a chair as I pass from my bedchamber into the sitting room. My desk is just a black blob in the corner as I really would like to know what time of day or night it is. But, I have a feeling that should it prove to be light out, opening the curtains would currently blind me.

It takes a moment or two of shuffling and a muted curse before I finally dig out the flint from one of the drawers in my desk. Scratching at it, the sparks soon enough set the small oil lamp going so I can actually look through the contents of the other drawers.

I already half-expected to find my maps out of order, opening the long thin drawer they're kept in and thumbing through the hefty stack. I've always allowed Timothy to go through them when he needs to, it's not as though I don't trust him not to put them all back when he's finished.

I don't know where or when I found the time for it, but there's another one to add to this collection sitting in Epona's saddle bags. I hadn't thought I'd ever need to chart Labyrnna's southern waters again, but I did.

"…What?" …As I just stated, I trust Timothy to _put them back when he is finished_. "Where is it…?" The Kokiri woods, where are they? I can't find it, the map that's supposed to be here with the rest. It took me days to cover all the ground drawn onto that map, and now I stand here unable to find any trace of it.

I don't think I've ever had to discipline Timothy before. At least never to the extent some knights do with their squires. Now, I'm not going to beat the boy over a lost map, but I think this is definite cause for me to sit him down and make it clear I'm not impressed…

_By Din's Blazing Infernos I'm too tired to search for my maps anywhere else than in the drawer where they belong!!_

"I think my Squire may be borrowing it, otherwise I'm afraid it's gone missing." I only know to speak up as an extra set of shadows is abruptly flashed across the walls. His majesty holds his own light high as he brings it into the room with him along with his map. Closing the drawer with a sharp snap, I know I look irritated at the moment, I hope that it's fairly obvious to his Majesty that that's because I **am**.

"It is of no consequence." Yes, well, you didn't draw it now did you, Majesty? "Come, if you would be so kind as to take a seat, I'm sure this one ought to suffice for this evening." Evening? So perhaps it is late enough for me not to have become nocturnal.

I'll admit; it's a bit odd being asked to have a seat in my own chambers, but I suppose that's to be expected; they're my rooms, but his castle. As his Majesty lowers himself onto one of the sturdy couches, he sets the candlestick down on one corner of his map as he unrolls it across the low table sitting in the middle of the rug.

"It took me a bit of searching to dredge this thing up, I hope the tree line hasn't changed too much since it was drawn." He says, watching as I make my way over and seat myself across from him. I'm still tired, and my legs and shoulders still ache, but I have a feeling he won't take it well if I ask him to leave and come back later. I don't get it; I should be jumping out of my skin wanting to know everything he has to say, but really I just feel slow and perhaps even a bit irritated…

"Does this landscape look at all familiar to you?" It takes a moment for the faded lines along the parchment to become clear to me in the dim light. Slowly though, the symbols of plains, the lines of forests, rivers, and roads all appear, painting themselves along the page as my eyes peel away the darkness.

Nodding to his Majesty, I watch as he begins trailing his fingers along one of those roads, several ink marks blotching the page. They look random as he runs his hand along them, but I can tell them to be markers indicating troop movements. Not only an old map, but used as well.

"This, right here, was Faron Fief." Tapping two fingers against a large brown box, its name faded too far into the parchment to be read any longer, I suddenly can't take my eyes off of it. It's a fairly large map in itself, but I recognize the area to not be more than perhaps a league or two across. The township itself is even large enough to have a number of large buildings inked into it. It's the size of a rectangle following the dimensions of the length of my thumb and the length of my index finger.

His majesty's voice even begins to fade into the sudden noise filling my mind. The map before me remains clear, but somehow I can't see it, my mind's eye filling with the images which have been following me constantly since the moment I made the choice to kill in anger and not out of duty.

_'She was waiting for the Lord of Faron Fief…'_ I hate him… Before I left, yes, I avoided him. And no, I did not like him, but I didn't hate Salvin, I didn't see him as evil. I saw him as manipulative, haughty, arrogant, I saw him as being like most of the nobility who pretend to be closer to the crown than they really are. So what if he's Zelda's cousin? His mother was only left alive because of the late Queen's good graces with her sister. If anything I'd expect Salvin to just grovel constantly at the King's feet, not trample on his toes and hang on his arm like a love-sick farm-hand.

But now… even though I know no future is set in stone, that what I saw with Nayru is only what was to happen if we vanished from time, I can't help it. I can't see him the same way anymore…

"Those are ruins just along the edge of the forest now." I recite woodenly, not sure why I speak as I can feel the silence lengthening despite my own thoughts running wild. "It was once a fort; wasn't it?"

"Not so much, there's no boarder save that with the ocean to the far south east. The Fief was walled and was well protected of course; the centre of Farore's cult, many fine knights were fostered within it's halls before it was destroyed…" For a moment, he almost sounds sad to hear himself say that, and I look to him curiously.

"If it was important to the Goddess, may I ask why it remains ruined?" From what I know of recent history, a number of large manors and towns were destroyed during the civil war, but most of them had new lords assigned to them by the man before me.

"That is a difficult question to answer, Sir Link." Sir Link, not Hero; Sir Link. Speaking to me as a knight, not a paladin, why do I keep getting the sinking suspicion that this cannot end well? "There simply hasn't been a… proper candidate I suppose. Not until now at least." I feel cold…

"Has someone come forward then? Recently?" A knight, not a paladin. A lord needs knights to support him in a campaign, why not a knight who grew up within the woods bordering the former township? Who better to pledge his sword?

"In a manner of speaking… Yes." I don't know why I'm panicking; I don't even know why I have the strength to panic. If I weren't sore enough all ready I know I'd be up by now pacing restlessly, but although my mind's fully awake at this point there's no way my legs will carry me along for something like that.

Of course there would still be a Lord of Faron Fief, there's no reason that would change. And there's no reason for me to feel any sort of… well, anything about him. All I need to do is… is… …I just need to… I can't even think of the words, I don't even know what he looks like… What his name is…

"I think we've… gotten off track, Majesty," I mumble, my voice muffled from behind my hands as I rub my face tiredly. By the gods, I'm still filthy; it's not a pleasant feeling to wipe my grimy hands across a dirty face… "You were saying something about my parents? Or who you suspect they may have been?"

"I think you'll find the two to be related, if I am correct at least, Sir Link." And this is when you tell me they were servants you met once, or captured, or something like that, isn't it, Majesty? After all, honor aside you were the aggressor in most every battle you were involved in… By Nayru's Grace, I don't think I'll be able to hold my tongue at all if he tries to saddle me into supporting a man using the supposed station of the two people he met years and years ago who might have possibly had a son who just so happened to be me.

"The last lord of Faron Fief… was a brilliant swordsman." I've heard his Majesty use this tone before. Whenever he gives his empowering speeches or commends someone in the court on a job well done, his voice takes on a sound which makes it seem as though he were born with a crown on his head. "A man among men; and a Knight of unquestionable loyalty to his Lord." But somehow, although I can hear that majestic ring in his words, I just want him to make his point. I don't like having information like this dangled in my face…

"He and I, I am sure we could have become good friends, had fate been more kind. Instead, he was bound to serve the King before me, and did so admirably until his death." That shine slowly seems to fade from his words, and his Majesty looks almost to be losing some of his own grace as he sits there, almost melancholy as he looks across the map and its mess of markings.

"When he died, I want you to remember that he did so as a true soldier; with pride and stony eyes which betrayed nothing of his inner thoughts." Point, I want a point. Make it now; stop leaving me in suspense!

"His Lady Wife however… after watching her husband die, I did not want the same or a similar fate to befall her; remember that as well, Sir Link." What is he talking about? I can't help but give him a narrow, clearly irritated look as he just keeps watching that map in front of him.

"I was young and foolish, and I gave chase to her across the battle-field as she fled. That horse…" He taps the map again, drawing my eyes down to it as he allows his fingers to slowly slide south of the town. Lower, lower, arcing into the woods just beyond the boundaries of the battle camps. "Here… it crossed into the forest here."

"This river, I know it." I'm watching him of course, but as his hand comes to a stop, the line of blue scrawling across the plains just south of that point jumps out at me. It's my turn to trace invisible lines now; placing two fingers on that curved stream and retracing it back up into the woods where the map-maker did not follow it. "It runs from the north of the forest down searching for the ocean, but never finds it; it just empties into Lake Hylia across the plains." I know where this area is, I've traveled through it several times, it was the same route I took at the start of the season to escort Ralph back to the city.

I know that at the time, we avoided following the river, and I didn't explain to anyone why that was. In simple truth, it's because one of the many feeder streams happens to also course through a small village of children… Adults are not welcomed in the presence of the Kokiri, they hide from them, becoming as shadows under logs and behind trees.

"Where were you raised, Sir Link? It is an ill-kept secret that your youth was spent within these woods, the same into which the lady fled and died…"

"How do you know she died?" I can feel my hand slowly moving of its own accord, silently following his order to find the place I left behind as a child. But I keep myself from jumping to the location, instead looking up towards the man across from me. I know he's watching the map before him intently, but for a brief moment he lifts his eyes enough to meet mine.

"Just as she vanished through the first branches of the forest, an archer mistaking my intentions let loose onto her. Even in the darkness his aim was true, I saw the shaft land myself…" The distance between the point of entry; and where I know the village to be is not an easy one to cross, but a panicked horse can often traverse paths tame ones dare not tread. And arrows, however many there may be, they take time to bring death if not to the heart or the head…

"…Her eyes." It's hard to breathe, but not as hard as before, nothing's crushing me, it's more as though something's pushing from the inside trying to burst out.

"She looked over her shoulder only once, the light from the fires devouring the town making them glow in the night…"

"…And mine."

"Had you not looked to me with such resentment, as though loathing your vows to me, Sir Link, I would never have said you resembled him in anything more than character. But seeing the colour of hers with the anger of his…"

I can't help but… just stare at him. It almost feels like this is all a dream, everything numb and my mind already spinning so fast it's reached the point where I can't think of anything at all. Somehow I don't even have anything to say. Not a word comes to me as I just continue to sit here, not even looking at him anymore but instead just past him at nothing. I don't know what to think, am I supposed to say something? Do anything?

"As you can see, in a manner of speaking, it's not as though anyone has made a motion to claim those lands or the ruins of the town. But more as an appropriate candidate is at last being recognized." I think… maybe he can see just how useless I'm going to be for the rest of this conversation.

"Even if this is all entirely incorrect, that nothing I have said here holds any basis in reality; few can really speak out against a development such as this." He just keeps talking; he's almost using a conversational tone really. It's not quite casual since I think he's as aware of the gravity of the situation, but just isn't being crushed by it as I am. "You are, after all, a man of valor, courage, and loyalty, and your skill with a sword is unquestionable. You are the chosen of Farore as well, so that only would make you even more appropriate. And it's not as though you have a homestead elsewhere. …Unless there has been some development over this past season which I am unaware of..?"

Dumbly, I just shake my head to him. I really don't think I trust myself to say anything just now. I'm not feeling some empowering rush of emotions which could result in my falling to the floor in tears. I just think it's more likely that I'd babble random noises if I opened my mouth…

"I do not expect an answer at this moment of course, in fact there is much more we would have to discuss before the decision would even fall to you completely. In fact I…" That's rare, I actually end up pulling my eyes back to his Majesty as the King's words falter. I think the map is by this point forgotten by both of us where it sits on the low table. The hand I was using to trace the lines of it somehow found it's way up over the lower half of my face, and the king has the fingers of both hands threaded together in front of him.

"I… don't even know how I can sit here in front of you." His voice is soft, how alien it is for me to hear him speak like that, almost shy… "In my youth I… I thought it was all for the best you know… I knew the price of war, I knew that the men against me were in the right, were following orders; that they had wives and families and homes to protect." Is this… "But… in that quest of mine, I know now that I stole… many things."

Is this a confession? Is he apologizing for something? My king is… ashamed of something enough to confess it like this? …Why?

"I took wealth… lands… honour. I stole many lives as well, and ruined countless more." He was looking at me before, but no longer. I think his eyes have lost focus now as mine did before, but instead of allowing myself to drift back into that, instead I find myself sitting here listening intently to his every word.

"I even stole the parents of an infant child." Despite those words, I can almost see it in his eyes, the way the memories are coming from him, how he's remembering and reminding himself that it wasn't just one child, but the better part of an entire generation…

"I cannot expect forgiveness by simply returning what was always to be yours, Sir Link." Slowly, I watch as His Majesty pulls himself together, rising with the clear unease of an old man and taking a moment to straighten his cloths. I almost forget myself, forcing my numb legs to hold me as I get up as well, I know I'm watching him intently, but can I be blamed for that now after all he's told me?

"Majesty-"

"Tomorrow…" He interrupts, looking to me solidly so as to still my tongue before he continues, "Come down to my study near the library once your are rested and well. We shall continue this conversation then. I shall..." Again, he hesitates, I don't know why but it almost worries me to see him so… uneasy, unable to put his words together completely. "I shall leave this here, with you. I think that might be for the best." At this, he gestures vaguely with one hand towards the map settled on the table top. His voice has fallen back into what most would consider the rumbling of an old man, not quite clear with his words, but rather with most of his meaning conveyed through body language. I wonder why it's so odd to think of the king as an old man…

"Yes, your Majesty." I answer quickly, not wanting to be cut off as he slowly starts walking. The moment I speak however he just stops and looks at me as if in shock. It's strange, being able to tell when his eyes are shifting constantly between what is before him and what memory brings to the front. He doesn't nod to me though, doesn't shake his head or reprimand me. His eyes just travel up and down me once, and I almost don't even hear what it is he says as he turns away and walks towards the door… but it's;

"Just like Georg…"

**

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**Gar! So many Abyss stories demand my attentions! I must finish Matters first however. I promise this to my faithful readers; Matters shall not die three inches from the finish line!! **


	37. Chapter 37

**Yes, I know that last chapter's development with Link was very easy to see coming. I had intended to make it more cryptic throughout the story what with hinting at Zelda becoming close-ish to a lord from the Faron region, but it never happened. Partially because Zelda was rather angsty, and I never felt like working on developing another sub-character whenever I had the space for it. And I didn't want him just there for one chapter either, like Mathias was; to do it right he would've had to show up multiple times too sow seeds of dissent amongst readers. Way to much work. **

**If I ever re-write this thing he might show up though. And Mathias will actually get some well-deserved development, because his back-story made him far more awesome than his father. But not this time around… 330 pages already, and still needing major development of some areas… how… tedious? Xx;; **

**And I don't care if having your nose broken doesn't majorly affect the way you speak! I just found it funny and overly amusing.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Matters of the State**

Chapter Thirty-Seven 

I don't think anyone who was supposed to be at last night's banquet actually showed up. I know the better part of the court made the expected appearance, but by the sounds of the gossip I've been hearing flutter back to me, I wasn't the only member of the High Table who skipped out.

Well, I certainly wasn't about to up and leave with Nayru half-dead on her feet. I don't quite know how long we were in there together, but I had been under the impression that she's fallen asleep on the bed by the time I was called out into the hall. I think the last person I had expected to see there was Zelda. Actually, I think the last person I had expected to see there was a Zelda who looked like she had either been crying or very near to it.

I don't think betrothal-breaking conversations are supposed to take place in palace hallways, but ours did. I haven't got a clue as to why it was so hard for us to say what we did before that point, but once the first words came the rest just flooded out. I'd never have thought hearing the words, "I value your friendship and ask for nothing more" could sound so sweet as they did when she spoke them. I think I nearly started jumping up and down the moment that point became clear between us. I haven't been able to stand this tall in weeks; why didn't we just say something before?

If I wanted to sound silly, I'd say that that blow to the face was like one which scattered all those sickening thoughts of war and disgrace. I don't know, maybe I'm not really meant to be a Prince after all, because I really do think politics would be a lot simpler if you could just walk up to someone and whale on them when they're acting the fool.

I think I was about ready to start dancing by the time the Princess and I ended up in a friendly embrace. Her maid turned a funny colour where she'd been standing down the hall, and I don't think Zelda was expecting me to act like that, but we made very short and sweet goodbyes before I turned right around to find Nayru. Of course, I still thought she was sleeping at the time, but I think I had enough nerve at that point to actually kiss her.

And then I was told that she'd somehow slipped out of the chamber all together. I haven't got a clue how she managed to get by me when I was standing right outside in the hall, but she did. And she didn't come back for almost and hour. What's more; for that entire hour I was about ready to soil myself and had to be forced into bed when Ferran lost his temper and said I'd only make myself more sick by panicking. When Nayru did return however, instead of greeting me with some sort of hurt scowl for misunderstanding my conversation with Zelda, she practically floating into the room and curled up quite comfortably against my side.

I think she mumbled something about having been to see the King, but fell asleep before I could ask her anything about that. I think I followed suit shortly after, because I don't remember anything more about that evening.

So, Nayru and I didn't attend dinner, despite word traveling very quickly that we're leaving today and the feast prepared for Link- who likewise was not there- was thus split in importance for the both of us. Zelda didn't show due to something I haven't heard about yet, and the King was also absent along with Salvin.

Well, the castle was certainly wound up in a complete and utter tizzy this morning when I got out of bed. No one seemed to know what to think as the cancellation of the wedding was still being clearly announced throughout the complex even as we took our leave from it. Link looked a bit pale where he was standing to the King's left where Salvin always stood before- Salvin's dismissal was also on every tongue despite his Majesty's order for him to be quiet about it. But I sort of understood why he'd be so exhausted, Nayru wasn't doing much better.

"I habe habing by bose ike dis…" I really hate talking with cotton stuffed up my nose… "I bound ike an ibiot…" An idiot with cotton stuffed up his nose…

"At least you didn't have to give the speech, and I don't think the court minded letting me speak instead." Looking to my right, I didn't know it until the beast was saddled and ready, but apparently Zelda decided to give us a parting gift. The mount carrying Nayru is startlingly white, and obviously well bred. Then again, am I really more interested in the horse than the rider?

"Hank you." Speech? It was more of a song and dance between Zelda and Nayru which took place at our departure. The two of them just kept milking the silent crowd by prattling on about the Goddess Nayru and being sisters or something weird like that… All I know was that I hadn't known it was going to happen, Link looked as confused and sleep-deprived as I felt, the King seemed out of the loop, and the rest of the nobility lapped it up like kittens with cream. Even now, leaving the palace walls behind us, I still don't know what happened; only that apparently I haven't insulted the better half of Hyrule by refusing to marry its princess.

Well, I already have one of my own, or I will once we reach Lynna city again. So I guess it doesn't really matter anymore… It's all just a matter of getting home now.

* * *

"Link," Looking quickly over my shoulder, I'm almost surprised to see Zelda coming down the corridor towards me. There are frail silver chains threaded through the gold of her hair and attached to the silver tiara across her brow, tear-drop emeralds dangling from her ears and complimenting the grassy sheen of her gown. The summer heat seems to be affecting her though along with the rest of the court, I couldn't bear to wear anything heavier than the navy blue vest I have on now over the silk shirt and brown trousers of my outfit. To stand like that under the summer sun while at last bidding farewell to Ralph and Nayru, it must've been harder on her than it was on me.

"Are you busy? You seem like you're rushing off somewhere…" She asks, and there's a sort of eagerness in her eyes as she comes up to me. I'm just about to say no when I abruptly remember where I was headed a moment ago. Closing my mouth, I just nod to her with a smile.

"Yes, your father, he wanted to speak with me." My tongue feels thick and clumsy as I force the words out. I don't think I've properly woken up yet, everything's just been moving so fast since the moment the city walls came within sight along the plains. I haven't even had a chance to return the Master Sword to its place within the Temple, the blade simply sitting quietly in the corner of my room next to my bed…

I don't know what to think about that sword at the moment. The entire time traveling across the mountains, and I could hardly stand to be parted from it. And yet the instant I woke up last night to speak with His Majesty, I haven't even wanted it in the same room as me. I can't decide what to think of anything anymore. It just feels as though there are so many things I need to focus on all at once, and yet I don't have time for any of it…

Sadly, that somehow seems to include finding time for Zelda… Just like how I've suddenly abstained from the Master Sword, I don't know how she can suddenly go from being forefront in my mind to simply lagging along in the back corner of my thoughts.

"Could you… spare me just a moment though?" From the top of the list to bottom of the barrel… Yes, I think I can afford to pay attention, his Majesty isn't the most punctual person; I can leave him to wait for at least a minute or two longer than I normally would. If it's a choice between being in his company and that of his daughter's then…

"I just…" Eagerness gives way to something hesitant, and I take her gently by the arm and begin walking with her, feeling how slow she is to start moving. Her eyes slowly drift to the floor, and it's like her feet are lead weights as I at least manage to move us down one of the smaller corridors before letting her slow to a stop again. Alright, so she didn't want to walk.

"I wanted to apologize… to say I'm sorry." Where we come to a stop, Zelda takes a step away from me and leans against the stone wall of the corridor. Her eyes are still down a bit and her gloved hands clasped behind her back as she's looking at my boots instead of my eyes. Why is she so withdrawn? She really almost looks as though she's ashamed of herself as she stands here. And oddly enough, I don't feel like it's undeserved, even as I stand here not able to say anything, inside I almost feel like this is right.

"It's alright, Princess." I'm smiling, the words coming easily to me as I hold one hand out to her. I still don't get it in my head, but if it feels right then... why argue? She looks up at me curiously though, as if she were expecting me to say something harsh. But why should I? She's a Princess, I'm a knight, she doesn't need to say anything to me she doesn't want too. I don't even have a house she could offend-

Wait.

"I know I should have said something when I had the chance. I just..." Without a house, before last night that would've been true, wouldn't it? Farore, was it really only a few hours ago? "...Thank you. Thank you for coming home."

I don't get a chance to go very far through my thoughts before Zelda accepts my hand at last. Now it's almost the reverse as she comes and stands right next to me, her fingers slowly threading through mine as she places her other hand gently on my arm as well. Woodenly, I feel myself walking along next to her slowly down the hall, but now I'm the one who just wants to stand numbly against a wall. It was only just last night...

Maybe I was dreaming?

"Ah," Drat, I was supposed to be headed towards the Library, I already forgot. Placing my hand over hers where it's settled onto my arm, I turn towards Zelda as she looks to me curiously. Her golden hair is plaited behind her head, the length of the braid swinging slightly as we stop walking again.

"Is something the matter?"

"I forgot, I was supposed to meet with your father this morning." Granted, it's still morning. I'm sort of disappointed Ralph decided to leave at first light the way he did, if only because it seems like a bit too much to expect of Nayru after we arrived yesterday. Then again, I don't think I want to speak with the Oracle again so soon after everything we've gone through. In fact, I don't think I'd want to speak with her at all.

"Excuse me," I say, nodding my head to her before quickly leaning in and touching my lips to her cheek. Nodding again as I pull back, I just turn on my heel and quickly begin walking back the way we'd come, trying to find that corner where she went and turned me away and off course.

I think I'm about two turns away from her before something strikes me like a very vicious slap. And it just might be the fact that there _was _no vicious slap.

I think I know what I just did; I have a fairly good idea of what it was. I know I didn't think it through exactly, it was more or less just a random idea that seemed natural and that I went with.

I don't stop walking though, almost light-headed as a queasy feeling enters my stomach. But I don't stop. It's not like I'm afraid of suddenly hearing her soft steps patting along behind me, and oddly enough it doesn't even feel like I should be worried about her. Do I need to be? Do I really?

I just keep going, quickly nodding in passing to the nobles in their silks and velvets as they scurry through the halls chattering away at their gossip. Moving quickly myself, my boots tap against the bare stone of a flight of stairs as I finally reach the large double doors of the library.

Turning just before them though, I duck down one of the more obscure corridors of the palace, knowing this to be more a servant's entrance than anything, it still takes me into the library.

When I first came to live here, the grey light of these massive chambers with their tall book cases and statues always reminded me of some sort of forest of books. Large tomes are scattered across the many dusty tables as I walk along the shelved edge of the library, able to hear the lessons of the squires and noble children taking place deeper within the maze of shelves and desks. The entire room feels musty and old, the smell of old books and yellowing pages full in the air as I look for the door branching off deeper into the library and the passages woven through and around it.

It's not hard to find of course, the library may be dusty, and the table-tops lined with books half open and some left for days untouched. But it's still easy enough to find your way through if you know where you're going or what you're looking for. I know that His Majesty employs several librarians as well when you actually need to search for information or documents though, since it's much easier to find locations than texts.

The way I'm looking for leads me to a wooden door stained dark with age. The way too it is clear although there are several stacks of books to be maneuvered around. Few nobles know that the multi-storied library has an exit to nearly every wing of the palace; only those who knew the palace as children seem aware this. But I learned it as well as anyone else, slipping through the dark portal into the dark, dungeon-esque corridor beyond.

I think its dark only due to the lack of windows this far within the palace. I don't really believe that any studies to be used by Nobility were ever planned to be put down here, thus the lack of glyphs or spelled stones to give constant light. Instead, there are only sparse candles spreading their golden glow along the walls.

Still, although the offices of those librarians are along these twisting hallways, and the Servant's wing is easily accessible from where I am now, it's still not hard to find where I need to be. Not pausing to consider which turns I need to take, I'm standing in front of His Majesty's door not a moment later, and only now do I finally feel myself begin to panic.

Alright. Calm. Calm down. I still don't think I remember the better part of what I was told last night. I don't think I was very coherent at the time… no, not at all. I still remember the parts which stuck the most, but as I can feel myself nervously drying the palms of my hands across my front, it seems almost useless to start repeating it all to myself again. I don't know why everything feels like I'm in a daze today…

"Enter." I don't think I was even aware of myself knocking. His Majesty's voice though is muted behind the thick wood of the door, and I'm almost hesitant to open it, settling my hand around the cold brass knob before finally twisting and pushing in on it.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would arrive…" His Majesty is as a stone figure behind his desk, the unseasonably hot length of his robe draped across his shoulders with its gold edging. The white silk of his shirt shines slightly in the soft silver light of the four orbs glowing in the corners of the chamber as I step in. He's dressed as he was when Ralph and Nayru departed this morning; even the gold of his crown still rims his head.

He looked tired this morning, but as I close the door behind myself, I can't read the emotions across his face at all. It's as though he truly is stone, his eyes hardened in a way which makes it seem as though they draw in all the light around them. His skin, while not appearing ashen, it's as though it's taken on the grainy texture and colour of the stone walls at his back. He truly looks like a legendary king, or at least the leader of a fabled land as Hyrule is too many. Like a man about too pass judgment.

No, that doesn't seem right… the way he's steeled himself, the air in his study feeling charged with some unnamed energy. It's more as though he's the one waiting to be judged… But by who though? Me?

"Forgive me, Majesty, I was distracted." Alright, that's a bit rude. It doesn't feel right to just dismiss Zelda like that; in fact, I was probably a bit rude in leaving so suddenly.

"There will be none of that now, Sir Link." I don't remember everything that happened yesterday very clearly. I know of course what happened, on the ride across the fields, in the throne room, between Zelda and I when I was taken back to my rooms- although there are a few minutes I can't account for, my face was sore too…

But yesterday, I know I threw formality farther out the window than normal, so I almost feel as though I have to make up for that now with His Majesty. I'm not a soldier although most knights do reach their position through military service, but I can't help but stand like one now. My shoulders roll back and I can feel my hands fisted at my sides, feet together and head up. I feel so stiff standing like this, but with His Highness sitting there so composed, it feels even worse to be lax.

"…I trust you understand why I have called you here." What a low sound his voice has today. He was formal this morning as was to be expected, but he's almost grim now. Stiffly, I offer a nod of understanding before speaking.

"You gave me… a lot to think about, Majest—"

"I said none of-"

"Highness, you are still King, you are still _my_ King." I think I'm being even worse today with etiquette than I was yesterday. Stealing a kiss from a Princess and interrupting the King, but I don't know what else to say as he's acting so… strangely. "Regardless of what was said last night, you are still the King I swore fealty to."

"And I would now relieve you of that oath." Wait- what!? I can't help myself, it's like someone just took a swing at me, my stance breaks clumsily and I somehow manage to almost fall while standing still. I just look at him with a shocked expression clearly painted across my face.

"What? Why, Majesty?" Hold, am I not thinking back far enough? Din's Fire! "Highness, if this is about what happened upon my return, I swear I can explain my actions!" Is he removing me from the palace? I keep thinking back to what was said last night, not the afternoon of the same day when I struck Ralph in front of the entire court- alright, perhaps that wasn't so brilliant of me- but is this the punishment for that?

That… that doesn't make sense! Is he sending me away? Faron Fief, he spoke to me about that, who my parents might have been, would he use that as an excuse to send me from the court? Oh, Farore, I know the importance of keeping to those codes of conduct and order, I understand the idea of keeping face and not losing it before foreign dignitaries- but this is Ralph of Labrynna! No one in this city can make me believe he actually would take offense to something like that and that he took it out on the court and Hyrule- no one!

There's no response from him though, he doesn't even shift in the slightest. His stony face just watching me impassively as his eyes refuse to show me anything at all. There's light enough for me to see him, but for some reason nothing else is clear to me, I just keep watching him, waiting for him to do-well, anything!

Why am I… suddenly afraid? I can feel my hand shaking and quickly fist my fingers in tightly, trying to make it stop. It doesn't work though, I just feel it spreading. There's no anger in it though, not like yesterday when I just wanted to ram my hand through the nearest wall before being taken away. This, this is fear, real _fear_.

This place, this castle, its home to me. Forget theories of who my parents might have been, my knighthood is who I am. I can't live just calling myself Farore's sword, that's not really me. That's just the me who knows he's good at killing so does so freely, the one who does it both to stay alive and make his own life easier. I can't live like that though, I need a home just like anyone else, he can't just send me away from it! Not now! Not after I called on Farore herself to let me come back!

I won't leave! I won't let everything fall to pieces, let that twisted world come to be. I can't—I won't! I won't let Ambi's Tower fall!!

It's a flash of silver which finally breaks through the thoughts whirling through my mind. It's one of those instincts which's kept me alive which brings all my attention back to the presence, silencing all those confused, nattering voices screaming and shrieking in my head making me want to fall to my knees in a panicked heap. I'm not a child though, I won't fall apart if told to leave, I found a new home once and I can do so again- can't I?

"This…" That flash, it's coming from something sitting on His Majesty's large wide desk in front of him. Why didn't I see it before, His Highness doesn't make a move for it, and unbidden I find myself stepping forwards so as to get a better look at it.

It's a sword. I can't tell if it's too delicate to be used in battle or not. The length of the blade is slim but sharp, well sharpened and polished but with nicks and scrapes which tell me someone must have once wielded it. It's also well made, the smith paid attention to the details of the metal, but clearly did not forget functionality as I can see where the corners are sternly connected along the hilt instead of twisted into more decorative flourishes.

From pommel to tip, it's a sword of silver and green, I don't doubt that the blade itself is really steel as is proper, but in this light and with the care it's had over the years, it's hard to tell the difference. It's been buffed and polished so much that there aren't even any scratches, only the gouges from connecting with opposing blades. The grip itself is made of green leather, fresh I can clearly see, although I don't know when His Majesty could have had that done. Along the edges of the guard are several large stones, so dark and unreflective that I can't tell what colour they are without having to pick it up and look at them in the light. And that I will not do…

"Take it." Finally, a glimmer of something becomes clear in His Majesty's eyes, but it isn't helpful for me as I look to him and see only a somber look akin to sadness sitting there. I just look from him to the blade once more…

"This is a nobleman's sword." No, not just noble, a Lord's blade. The sort a house keeps mounted over a hearth and is drawn only for war or assembly. Over the years, I've seen them brought before His Majesty by the men who now govern the provinces in their individual fiefdoms. Subtly, he moves for the first time since I stepped inside his study, inclining his head to me in agreement.

"This blade was wielded by Lord Georg of Faron Fief over two decades ago."

"Majesty—"

"Regardless of whether or not you are in fact his son, Sir Link, there is not another young man in all Hyrule whom I would rather entrust this blade to." Somehow, I have plenty to say to rebuke him, but all the words just end up backed up in my throat, and they won't come loose. "Regardless of whether or not you truly have noble blood in your veins, regardless of whether or not I did indeed strike your father down in battle. Your father-regardless of his social status- died in a war I began, I furthered, I emerged victorious from."

I can feel myself just staring at him, all the words fading to dust in my mouth, leaving me parched for a single thought to put thing straight. Watching him grip the armrests of his seat briefly, it's almost a surprise for me to watch the man who was as stone rise into a standing position. Despite his mobility however, he still looks so grey.

"Kneel." He says simply, shuffling out from behind his desk, and setting one hand down on the hilt of the sword sitting between us both. I don't know what to say, I can't very well refuse him. As he stands to my left, I turn to face him and do as he says, bringing myself down to one knee on the floor, just staring at the black toes of his boots without anything to say.

"You are a Knight of Hyrule." Somewhere in his words, there is the softest grunt as he lifts the sword from the desk, the tip striking the floor next to me sharply and causing me to jump slightly. It wasn't close enough to strike me, but st—"You are bound by your duty and honor to serve the Royal Family, to lay down your life for the crown and the nation."

He needs both hands in order to lift the sword up just over my head. I can only hope he doesn't lose his strength and drop the edge into my skull by accident- should I really be thinking things like this right now?

"As a boy, you set your words in stone and bowed your head in submission." Clad in full armor in the baking heat of summer, I remember well the ceremony in the Great Hall…

"And now, I break the stone, unwrite the words, release the vows. Lift your head once more. Look at me, Link." I don't know if it's the commanding tone in his voice, or just hearing him for the first time ever using just my name and nothing more. But I look up.

The sword is shining in his hands, not powerfully, but with a subtle shine the glowing orbs in the corners can't account for. His Highness is a powerful sage; but many people seem to forget that. Somehow though, I look past him, up higher towards the sword itself, and I see something which wasn't clear on the other side when it was resting.

The symbol of Farore, several circles and crescents overlapping one another, is blazoned where the hilt splits apart into the two guards, right on the cross-piece. On the other side the symbol must have been chipped and worn away by time, but now I can see it… Resting right where the family crest ought to be…

I'm almost worried for a moment as the sword being held over my head is swung around, a level of skill I've never seen in His Majesty's hands guiding the tip of the blade just shy of me before its left hanging towards the ground. Slowly, he lowers it, and I can see the strain of the exercise clearly spread across his face in a red cloud.

"Take it." He sounds breathless now, watching me as I slowly rise and he nudges the sword towards me, not letting go of it as I can see him practically leaning on it for support. But he just offers it again as I stand here looking at him, stunned.

As I reach out slowly, I stop and watch my left hand tremble again. Swallowing hard, I pull back again and just look at it, not even sure anymore if it's fear holding me back. Drawing my hand into a fist again though, I try to calm myself down, this shouldn't be so hard.

This time, His Majesty moves his own hands out of the way, placing his weight on the corner of his desk instead as I finally get a hold on the sword's hilt. I hold my breath for a moment, watching as that faint glow fades into the silvery light of the study. And…

And I don't… feel any different, I don't know if I'm supposed to or not, but I really don't. I don't know whether I feel emboldened by this or not, but taking another deep breath I finally take hold of it properly, feeling the fresh bindings compress under my hand, conforming to what I find most comfortable as I bring the point up into the air.

I'm tempted to give it a few swift swings or jabs, just wanting to get a feel for it; a new weapon in my hands, but I remember where I am too soon to allow for any of that. Instead, I just watch the light play off of it… holding it in one hand instead and letting the fingers of my right gently graze that symbol.

"Nothing binds you now…" His Majesty sounds almost faint as he speaks, still leaning on the desk heavily as I look to him again… The man who… is trying to take the blame for something he did in a time I can't even remember.

"Not honor, not duty… not even the law." He looks so old, so weak standing there, trying to catch his breath. I don't know what he means by the last part however until he reaches into the fall of his robes and withdraws a folded piece of parchment before handing it to me.

Letting the sword's point fall down until it's just above the stone floor, I take the letter and unfold it between my fingers, scanning it quickly. What? Why would he give me—

"This is a Letter of Mark…" An order of pardon, a royal edict signed by the man in front of me to allow freedom for me!? Why would I need a pardon!?

"I am a man who stole many things in his youth." I don't know where I find the gall for it, but I think the expression on my face is one which boarders on the edge of disgust. "And you are a man bound by nothing… Free."

"And you expect me to use freedom to commit murder!?" I almost jump at the anger in my own voice, almost feel fear kindle along side that burst of anger, it's so close to a rage I felt only so long ago… When faced with another old man who knew I held all of the cards.

"I expect a free man to seek justice as he sees fit."

"By killing you."

"If that is the only way…" I don't know how I manage it, but my next words boarder on a full blown scream;

"Don't insult me!!" I can feel the venom lacing each word as I can feel my temper fraying, but I know this anger is different, it has to be. "Don't treat me like a cut-throat, like a mercenary fighting for his own skin! By Farore's Divine Winds, why does everything end in _blood!?_"

It's the ear-splitting clatter of the sword striking its flat side against the nearest wall which finally brings me to bite down on my own tongue. I didn't even feel the sword leave my hand, but it lays on the floor miraculously not broken given its age.

I'm shaking again, clenching and releasing my hands over and over again. But somehow on the inside I feel calm, I feel alright, just like before when I said goodbye to Zelda the way I did. I should feel panicky all over again, but instead I just stand here staring at the wall and I feel almost better. I don't even want to look at His Majesty right now though…

"…there was talk… years ago… of my adopting a son." Nayru's Love, what's he rambling about _now? _"Some members of the court do not feel as sure of following a Queen as they would be if I had a son to name as heir instead… Perhaps…"

"No, just no. Stop talking." It's like he's trying to dig himself into a hole already knowing he can't get out of it… Is he just giving up now and talking to fill the silence? Shaking my head at nothing, I turn towards him again and see that melancholy look on his face he had there yesterday in the Throne Room. I just don't understand this man… But that doesn't leave me without options.

"I will not shed blood to reap justice from an unjust situation." Situation… yes, war is just a _'circumstance'_, isn't it? "I will not leave this castle and everything I want within it. And I…"

I have to close my eyes and pause for a moment, looking to him as I step forwards slowly. Fisting my left hand and placing it over my right shoulder, I close my eyes again, bow my head, and lower myself back onto one knee in front of him.

"I swear by my honor and duty to serve and protect the Royal Family of Hyrule, to lay down my life for the crown and country." It's been so long since that sweltering summer, I don't even remember all of the words, having to alter them to suit my needs, "My duty to the People comes second only to my commitment to the Gods and their will. I pledge my sword, shield, and soul to the Golden Land, the Kingdom of Hyrule and the Gateway unto the Sacred Realm."

I know, that formally he should have a sword in his hands to properly knight me with, but I've never really be one for etiquette. And I don't want to retrieve the one flung across the room just now. Instead, I rise even without him saying a word, and for the first time I think I notice I'm actually a fingerspan or more taller than His Majesty.

"I ask but one thing in return, Highness." I don't think he even realizes I actually expect him to respond, at least not until the silence stretches for long enough, and he finally gives a soft start.

"Make your request…" For a moment, the words almost end up jamming in my throat again, but this time, I make them come out, force myself to be completely clear and concise…

"I ask the right as any man does before a father, for permission to Court your daughter…" To fast, he's too fast to try responding to me, I don't even let him get a word in edge-wise, unable to control the sharpness in my voice as I cut in abruptly; "I do not ask her promised to me, ask not for any encouragement, I merely request for the right -to be exercised at my discretion- to court the Princess Zelda." Now, finally, he takes a pause, looking up at me for a moment before his eyes drift off towards a lone section of the wall. I'm of half a mind to follow his gaze but think better of it, simply keeping my eyes where they are, waiting tensely for him to consider it properly before responding…

I hadn't noticed before how old His Majesty is becoming with the years, I always just had this image in my mind of him remaining eternal, always the same and never changing. I suppose that was in part a foolish image to carry with me…

"…Granted."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"You are dismissed, Lord Faron."

* * *

**Ugh, I have so many Tales of the Abyss and other Zelda stories I want to write, but I don't have the heart (IE: the guts) to let Matters lie for a little while. That'd be way too cruel (IE: Suicidal) of me, especially for those've you who've been constantly reading week after week. (Even those of you who never review. I shake my fist at but love you all the same.) I know I went and posted all those one-shots though. **

**Oh well, it's not like I don't love Matters very, very much so, I'm just itching too dive into something with a much faster pace. **

**Nyah, sorry for any stupid grammatical blunders this chapter, leaving for the island at 5 tomorrow morning for two days, so it was either now or Monday afternoon. Quick-post, buhbye!!**


	38. Chapter 38

**Time for a new beginning to write the ending. This is the Final Chapter of Matters of the State; I do so hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it these past 13 months. At the end of this story you will find all the artist and album names I used to write Matters, I'd've named the songs themselves, but there're way to many.**

**If you want to look at this as being the end of the beginning; please do so. Matters is actually a portion of an extremely long series it's spawned from itself. Time and Again will be my next Zelda story, this first section here actually feeds off of it, and should be almost identical to what will be featured in TaA. Yes, it's a bit depressing and sad, but so is the story. **

**With the completion of Matters, I also intend to launch a series of Multi-chapter stories in the Tales of the Abyss section, the first one (currently titled 'Red Eyes') will be launched parallel to Time and Again and updated with it. If you have not played Tales of the Abyss for the PS2, and have access to the system; play it. Right now. Stop reading. Go to the store, buy it, and fall in love with Jade. **

**Alright, enough shameless advertising. Please, sit back and really do take a moment or two to enjoy these; the final Matters of the State… (Yes, a pun)**

* * *

**Matters of the State **

Chapter Thirty-Eight 

"Nayru?"

I'm almost surprised as I look around and see Ralph watching me curiously. We still haven't gone very far from the palace, the wide circle of the city's centre spreading around us. The noise isn't so bad for this early in the morning, a few vendors setting up their stalls and small children running back and forth down the lanes with messages and bundles to be delivered.

"Sorry, I just thought I…" I can't help it, twisting in the saddle again, my eyes are seamlessly drawn to the fountain and its twinkling spout of water. The Triforce flanked by the King's Falcon, it's reassuring to see the bird in place of the red lion, but the symbol itself isn't what draws my attention.

_'All gone… …they're all… gone…' _

It's that. It's that soft sound tickling the edge of my mind, an itch I just can't scratch and a note I simply can't hit. I know there's something there though, something I'm just not seeing. The snowy white horse beneath me seems to sense my unease, her pace slowing first to a gentle plod before she finally just stops in the middle of the square.

"Lady Oracle?" Of course!

"Nayru, what is it?" It's not Ralph's voice this time which grabs me, it's the title. Oracle, how could I forget? It's not a moment later that I've slid from the saddle and spare a moment to pat the snout of my ride before I turn to look up into Ralph's confused and bandaged face.

"Can you wait a moment for me?" I ask, feeling my thoughts race and yet my voice just sounds calm and pleasant, as though excusing myself for a stroll. He doesn't really seem to know how to take this, so I just smile and touch my hand to his arm gently.

"I won't be very long, I promise. No more than a few minutes…" Finally he just nods to me, looking back at the three other men with us, he just shrugs as I turn away from them all and start walking. Ralph's Hylian guards are here as well, but they will leave us at the East Gate. This is… early morning two days before the Summer Solstice.

Given that the morning is still very quiet, and there are almost no people up and about just now, I don't need to weave past or through anyone as I cross the square towards the fountain. The blue-tinted stone beneath me is covered in an array of swirls, melding seamlessly with the white alabaster basin of the fountain here in the very heart. The waters within don't run very high, although the edge is up just past my knees, the fountain wall wide enough to hold a basket if I had one, and provide a sure seat for washing if that is what I was here for.

Instead, I just settle myself down onto the lip of the pool, watching the clear waters splash down from the spout on the top of the highest triangle. Following the fall of those pristine droplettes, they merge into the waters below… rippling across something submerged and sitting at the very bottom of the fountain.

That something is a work of art from an age even I have never seen. With a core of wood and threads of gold, the blue stones and violet crystals worked seamlessly along the curve of the harp shimmer in the dawn light. Even without touching it, I smile again as I can feel the low thrum of anticipation within the Harp of Ages… and slowly lean down to claim it…

* * *

It's raining still… It doesn't feel as though it's ever going to stop. 

The broken thoroughfare around me, I've seen it quiet before, but never like this. This is the first time I've ever seen the fountain basin fill so high though, not even the autumn rains bring this much throughout the entire season… I don't know how many days have passed, or if it's still the very first one, but the water's already up to the edge… Soon, I think it might even start to overflow… to flood…

Everyone's gone now, I've lost track of time but it already feels as though the city's been empty for years and years. All the dirty roads and all the broken tiles... It looks like a city abandoned centuries before, now that the rain's washed away all the muddy footprints of the people who left it behind.

I'm such an idiot; I don't even have any tears left. Of course no one would take me with them; no one ever even knew I was here to begin with. Only two people, just two, ever really took notice of me, were able to pick me out from the crowd and pay attention.

And of course, one of them is the reason all the streets are empty now, is the reason all the city is in shambles. He's the reason the rain keeps dumping down on me, soaking through everything as though trying to wash away all the dirt smearing me from days spent underground.

That's an odd thought actually, but I don't think anyone'd really pay attention long enough for me to explain why I was below the city to begin with. And the only other person who would, well…

He's dead, obviously. And he died like a dog too… All the bells were chiming, and then they shattered. At once all I can say is I never heard anything more triumphant; or another sound so sad… Those bells, I wonder how many meals one of them could have bought when they were still intact?

Meals now, that's what I'm thinking of. Not capes and boots and horses, not pretty ladies and a castle to make myself king in. Food, that's what I want to know about, how am I going to eat now that no one's here at all? They all took everything with them, they did what the voices said, those silent voices everyone except for me to could hear. Even the round-eared people heard them, but not me. No one ever stops to speak to me, not even the Gods…

Looking up at the sky, everything seems tinged brown, like old paper left out in the sun too long. I've never seen the clouds all covered in dust though, looking like soiled cotton hanging in the sky, still dumping their muddy water down on me. What was the name of the Goddess who was the water? I don't remember, I don't think her name's used very much anymore. Everyone swears by the Fire Goddesses name, or the Wind one, I guess Water's just to kind and gentle for cursing.

I should probably stop sitting here and go somewhere. Should probably try to run and catch up with one of the slower troops of citizens marching out across the flooding planes. But… I really don't think there's much point in that. I don't think I even have the energy to try right now. And I really don't know how long it's been since the last person vanished off into the sheets of dirty rain… It's strange though, I always had a really good sense of time…

Just like how I don't know when the last person left me behind, I also can't tell when the music started. The sound of it doesn't hold a candle up to the screaming of the bells from before, but at the same time the hiss of the rain doesn't drown it out either. It's more like the two merge, the gentle plucking sound of the harp next to me warbling on and on, spinning these glowing threads of blue between the raindrops, swerving around the mud and the wet.

Lowering my head onto my knees, I feel my eyes slowly close as the song finally echoes into silence, and the drone of the rain comes back as the only sound again.

"These rains are warm…" I only just put my head down, and yet I lift it back up as the woman next to me starts to speak. "Like tears…" It's so eerie, the rain falling so heavily that even though she's this close to me; one of her hands held out towards the muddy downpour. I can hardly see her through the veil of dust and water; it's like a screen of the castle's filthy silk drapes…

"You're late." I mutter bitterly, feeling so tired as she drops her hand and looks to me through the rain, bowing her head slightly as she speaks.

"I know… However I see you found the bracelets all on your own." At this, I make myself lift one of my own hands up, looking at the coil of gold twisted around it… It wasn't like this when I found it; I pocketed it hoping to pawn it off later.

"When I stuck my hand into my bag, it coiled 'round me like a viper…"

"Hmm… then I really was late…" So much rain… And even with it thundering down from the sky, there's still a thick silence, but for some reason it doesn't bother me the way it should… Finally I have to break it though, looking to her shaded face again and trying to pick out any of the details from it…

"Can I… go home now?" It's such a careful motion, how she leans forwards where she's sitting, the harp she was strumming tucked against the crook of her arm as she stands. For a moment, I'm almost afraid she'll start walking without answering me, just forget I'm here and leave just like everyone else did. I can't belong here, I just can't…

Instead though, she just turns around and holds one hand out to me, it's so hard to see her, the rain plastering her long dark hair to her scalp as it looks almost blue across her face. She's smiling though; smiling at _me_.

"Of course… Come; let me show you how."

* * *

Too big, it's too big. All of it, everything, from the doorway to the windows to the length breadth and everything in-between and around it. The entire place is just way too big. 

Mind you, it's a lot smaller than Hyrule Castle, it's smaller than the Royal Stables actually, but that doesn't keep it from still being way too damn big for me. I might be from the old bloodline, but that doesn't mean I need the old palace.

"Look, it's snowing…" Well, maybe it isn't _all_ bad…

"Hunh?" Cracking one eye open, I pry my head up off the pillow and try to look past Nayru's head towards the window. Oh look, it's snowing… I'm going back to bed now.

"Longest night of the year…" Yes, I know, we were just up for the better part of it in the city square for the Solstice festival.

"Are you suggesting something, my Queen?" I comment drowsily, finding it difficult to make my tongue move, my entire mouth is numb from wine and I'm fairly sure my head will feel like a split melon come morning.

"No, not at all." She finally sounds tired, sighing as she answers me before shifting on the bed, scooting towards me a bit so her back is pressing up against me, my arms still lazily thrown around her from when we both crawled under the covers to sleep. "I'm quite exhausted actually; I think you just had too much wine." Oh, as though she's one to talk. I take it sort of like a challenge to hear her say that, pulling my head back up and using one arm to roll her over to face me. It takes me only a moment to check, and when I break for air I can feel myself smiling smugly.

"No, I think you definitely… Nayru?" …She fell asleep.

"Fine, be that way…" Settling back down again, I just pull her closer to me like before. This house is too large for us, and its strange living in the heart of Lynna instead of on the outskirts of the woods, but… it's not all bad… The window across from me, you can see almost down to the harbor from here… No, not all bad…

"…There better not be any meetings tomorrow…" It's wishful thinking but… Sleep…

* * *

"I don't see him…" 

"Stop fidgeting, child, everyone will start thinking you're nervous."

"But I can't _see_ him."

Tonight, tonight is an eve of all silvers and blacks, the tall windows of the Great Hall frosting along the outside as torches burn from every corner and wall trying to ease the chill of winter beyond the walls. This isn't the sort of event where it's a scandal to wear a dress of the same colour as another woman, instead it is more a test of each noblewoman's skills with needle and thread, or at leas the skill of their maids. I can't say I'm immune to the fervor myself, although I don't think I was quite willing to render myself blind trying to finish my own gown for this evening.

The Winter Solstice is much different from its summer counterpart. It's not a somber occasion really, especially not after the wine's flowed for long enough and the musicians start playing in shifts. The tables were all pulled away a few short minutes ago, and with every man wearing the same basic outfit of black tunic and trousers, it's hellish to try finding the only Lord amongst them I'm interested in seeing.

"Zelda." I look towards Impa as she speaks to me with a more stern tone. Her dark eyes have a sharpness too them, but after a moment they fade and she allows for an almost tender smile.

"I'm sure he'll come along once he's finished entertaining all the young ladies fawning over him." After he's done _what? _Now it's **my** turn to give _her_ a sharp look, feeling myself puff up a bit as she just gives me a nasty little smirk.

"Silly girl, a Hero, a Lord? None of them can resist, all they see is Rupees and prestige when they look at him." What a nasty, nasty little smile she has sometimes. "I suggest being a bit more upfront tonight."

"You're terrible, Impa." I manage to make the words come out as a joke, adjusting the shimmering silver falls of my sleeves with one hand, taking a moment to admire the black silk flowing from my neck to the floor. There's a loop of silver cord around each of my middle fingers, and again at my elbows, each of these loops then connecting to the sleeves for a wonderful flowing effect. It's the sort of gown made for dancing, long but not so much that I can't move, light and sleek, nothing too cumbersome at all. The weight of my tiara across my brow is the most bulky article about me, even my earrings tonight not even dangling, instead formed more into silver clasps set with moonstone which crawl up my ears.

"No, Princess. I'm impatient!" She lowers her voice down to a whisper at this, but she's smiling and fighting back laughter as she speaks into my ear, "You were almost wed this summer, so what else have I had to think about this entire autumn but what the real wedding will be like? If you really want to make your father happy, then marry a goat for all that it matters; just make sure it's a goat who can give him grandchildren!"

"You **_are_** terrible!" I don't know where the giggles come from, but as I cover my face daintily with one hand, I all but jump out of my skin to hear a familiar voice just behind me.

"Ah, two of the most lovely ladies in all Hyrule, would either of you care to dance?" It's more the touch along the bare skin along my arm which makes me jump than Link's voice itself. Either way, I turn right around on my heel and find myself staring at him with his goofy smile and dancing eyes.

It's been a… tense autumn… at times both better and yet so much worse than the summer it so closely followed. Heart-wrenching even. Each time something has come close to happening, it simply hasn't as though he keeps making advances and then backing off, testing bathwater several times when it should already be at the right temperature. If this is what it means to be toyed with, then I certainly understand why it's such a hated state of being.

"Ah, _Lord Faron_," Impa's voice isn't clipped in real disdain, but she milks the sarcasm out as far as she can as she replies to him from just behind me, "Your words are as tasteless as yesteryear's wine, and about half as potent." It's such a scathing comment to look at only the words, but the way she says it makes the humour show through, Link jerking his head to the side with a pained expression before rubbing his cheek as though struck.

"So cruel, Mistress! But I believe you misunderstand, I was referring in fact to her Majesty, and the serving girl who was running along behind you when I came up. The latter I fear didn't hear me, oh well." Ohh, but that is a dangerous game to play! Impa's eyes widen and that smile of hers becomes just a little bit more nasty than a bit of friendly banter should warrant.

"Well, I at least will oblige you, good Sir." I interrupt; making sure to keep myself firmly between them as I slip one hand into the offered one Link seems to have already forgotten about. "My lady and I were just discussing you in fact, perhaps if you dance well tonight I'll hint at what it was about." I offer a sly smile to Impa as she brings her wineglass up to her lips, the light in her eyes dancing merrily. All too swiftly however, all the details of the evening pale and blur into nothing as I feel his hand rest warmly on the small of my back.

Oh, but he really can be cruel sometimes. And I don't even think he's aware of it half the time.

The hall is crowded tonight as it is every evening where dancing is concerned. All the tables pulled away to the sides and allowing for the wide space to be used for all the swirling couples of silver and black. I suppose we're no different for the moment as Link graciously leads me along towards a small open patch of floor where we won't have to worry about tumbling into another pair.

"When you say things like that, it makes me think I'll end up asking more than just the two questions I've planned for." His flamboyant tone fades as we reach the portion of the floor where we can still hear the music, yet the drone of the crowd is manageable enough for us to speak without shouting.

Sometimes I wish the lighting were better on evenings like this, there are torches and candles spread all across the hall and suspended even from the ceiling and walls, but even so it can be hard to see around us. The moon is spilling its silvery rays in through the tall windows, and even across the hall the light of its full pale face reflects off of all the threaded silver and glittering jewelry…

Despite his new title and position, Link's attire is little different from what I know he's always been accustomed to. His tunic is simple and of warm black wool for the season. His trousers tucking into the legs of his boots as there's naught but a silver earring dangling from one lobe to decorate him.

"You look beautiful tonight…" His hands are warm despite the chill outside, our fingers threading together before I settle my arm across his and his other hand rests against my waist. I do my best to keep from looking too happy to be standing with him now, the both of us patiently waiting for the next roundelay in the music; for our opening to join those around us.

"You mentioned two questions tonight, didn't you?" The songs played tonight are those which suit the season very well. The three minstrels standing just before the High Table each bring their instruments to sing in gentle harmony with one another. The soft voice of a fine silver harp weaves its way through the gentle chimes of the tiny bells strapped to another musician's fingertips, and the lulling sighs of the lute tie it all together. My father's female bard also stands with her companions, her voice warm and velvety as the thick wines topping every glass.

I can't hear the Bard's words, but as Link and I slowly start to sway and step in time with the music, it doesn't matter. He's never been the most fluid dancer; always one to prefer a more lively jig to a melodic waltz, but he's doing well tonight.

"Yes, and you've already answered one for me so far…" There's something soft in his voice now as he speaks. As I feel his hand move from my side up along my back, my eyes slowly close as he draws me in a little bit closer to him while we dance.

"And the next one..?" No one said I was limited to two questions as well.

"After this dance, let's go to your garden, you and I." The garden? That's certainly a strange request. Nothing lives in there now, the wisteria is all twisted and black for its winter sleep, the grass all covered in frost and white snow, even the stream is silent now under all the ice.

"But why the—"

"Hush now, the song's almost over…" Well, he's right about that at least. The voice of my father's bard rises high and higher now as the songs of the instruments around her draw themselves out in vain trying to match her. She has a truly masterful voice, one which feathers up high into the rafters of the hall, higher even than the light of the candles can dare to reach. Finally, when only the echo is left, the song is over, the dance is finished.

It's custom, I think, for two people intending to meet elsewhere never to leave an event together at the same time. As the last notes fade into the din rustling skirts and mingling lords, Link and I pull apart from one another. He bends his knee to me and I spread my skirts in a curtsey, and then with practiced indifference we both turn and move in separate directions. It's hard to pretend I'm not aware of him however, still able to keenly feel the warmth along my back.

It's proper, I know, for me to stop and speak with any familiar faces I pass along my round-about path to the doors of the hall. Every entrance and exit to the hall is wide open and unwatched this evening for the expressed purpose of making departures such as mine own all the less awkward. Of course, no one ever really says things like that out-loud; it's merely one of the unspoken bits of common knowledge which flitter through the castle air.

I don't really want to gossip and mingle just now however, but know that to be the rule as Lady Savyna waves to me. Her thin angular face is blushing from the taste of wine as her droopy-eyed husband sits nodding off next to their small daughter at the edge of the dance floor.

"Marvelous party, Princess!" Savyna does so enjoy her indulgence in wine, but amongst the noblewomen here in the palace she does have a sound head on her shoulders. She's only a few years older than me as she glides forwards and hooks one arm around my elbow, a wineglass in her other hand as she swirls the dark red contents luxuriously.

As is proper for a married woman, Savyna's gown runs from her neck to her wrists to her heels, sparing only enough length to allow her the freedom to dance if she so chooses to. The beautiful silver embroidery along the bodice of her gown catches the eye and the black underneath smoothes over her thickening waistline as rumour has it this shall be her last night of indulgence until her next child is born. A cord of silver is looped around her hips as well, likewise adding to the image of a slimmer figure. The gold lengths of her hair are twined up over her ears as well, silver chains keeping them in place as she leans towards me to whisper a bit of gossip.

"Best keep your eye on your little Hero though," I know I should be elsewhere by now, but this is how it simply is in the upper class. I listen to her although my feet most definitely itch to take me outside. "Seems a certain red-haired flirt hasn't taken her eyes off of him since your darling cousin rode out of here on the heels of the Prince… what was his name again?"

"I don't think it matters, what's this about a flirt?" As though that word does not include every young unmarried noblewoman and a third of the old widowed ones as well.

"Hate to bring up dead gossip, Zelda, but why _did_ the Lord Salvin decide to take his leave?" Dead indeed, I thought these talks stopped after Lady Anise's miscarriage this past autumn.

"I've been under the impression that his mother- the Lady Cataline- fell into ill health and requested his presence at her side." I'll tell the court whatever they wish to hear. Link's face and eyes grow so cold whenever he hears that name; I haven't had the heart even after all this time to make him tell me what it was he saw while he was away. Until he finally informs me however, all I can do is help keep the rumours far from whatever the truth may really be. I wasn't there when Salvin was exiled from the court either, and father is so tight-lipped with such matters that it's useless trying to ilk any details from him.

"Well, I shan't keep you from your rendezvous much longer, Princess." All this time we've been speaking, I only noticed with half a mind that Savyna was walking us in the direction of the door. I would smile to see how she plays along with all the courtly games as well as any, but I must remember my role as well, and look to her with curiosity instead of appreciation.

"Rendezvous, Savyna? I haven't the slightest idea as to what you could mean." As our arms unlink, I fan myself absently with one hand, glancing towards the open doorway for a moment before looking to her again.

"Pardon me, Lady Savyna, but I feel a bit faint. Would you excuse me for a moment, I think I'll go get some air." We're only just far enough so that the charade need not be so perfect at this point. Smiling cryptically at me, my friend simply brings one hand up and starts stroking her swelling belly proudly.

"Sometimes a bit of air is all it takes."

"Savyna!"

"Go! Get you gone now!" She's laughing now, a bit unsteady on her feet as she takes another deep drink from her glass and waves me off dismissively, "I'll keep our seductive little sweet-heart occupied, the skinny little wretch." Leave it to a woman with child to convince another without to stop chasing men. I simply find myself laughing quietly to myself as I turn and try to keep from walking _too_ quickly down the halls.

There are some guards on patrol now, but they are few and far between, most of them taking very short shifts so that each one in the rotation can enjoy the festivities even a little. As a result, I pass only one red-clothed guard along the way towards my garden's entrance, not needing do any more than nod as he halts and offers an honorary bow to me. Even on a night where every woman wears the same colours, everyone always knows who I am.

Reaching the doorway to the outside, I finally make myself pause and take a breath. I can't help but feel excited though, trying not to look too eager as I breathe deep for a moment and let it out slowly. With a gentle push, I'm outside.

Despite the chill in the mid-winter air, my garden is almost as lovely now as it is in full summer and spring. The moonlight shimmers off of every icy stone and branch, blankets of white covering the sleeping beds and the walkways all so carefully tended throughout the warmer months. Even my stream is silent, a thick layer of ice quieting it from now until the spring thaw many weeks away.

There's only one set of footprints, and they lead from the doorway where I stand now out towards the wooden railing leaning just out over the frozen stream. Link's tunic seems to swallow the light as he stands with his back to me, his hair shimmering with flashes of silver as I don't think either of us thought to bring a flame with us.

With the snow and the moonlight, it's almost like a dream or a fairy tale. The Hero and the Princess, how story-book. He takes a moment before turning his head over his shoulder to look at me, offering me a smile as he stands straight again and waits for me to make my way over to him.

"Why out here?" I ask quietly, aware of how loud my voice is in the sleeping garden and trying to hush my words a bit. Coming next to him, I brush away some of the powdered white from the railing and lean my arms on it comfortably.

"It seemed right." Leaning on one elbow, I can feel his eyes watching me, allowing myself to absently breathe out and see how far the cloud of my breath can go. I finally stop with that as I feel one of his fingers gently brush away a lock of my hair that's fallen out of place under my tiara. Turning my head towards him, there's something soft in his eyes, almost as though he's saying sorry.

"You've been very mean to me this last little while." I don't know why that sounds so childish, but it does and I can't think of a way to change the words around for something better. His expression changes however as I speak, until he truly does look sorry.

"I was told that… something terrible would happen this year at midwinter." He says softly, and I notice his hand still stroking the side of my face tenderly. I can't think of my pride now though, about how insulting it is to be toyed with, this is Link… "I wanted to make sure it didn't happen… To rewrite the future I suppose."

"The future..."

"I know that sounds like a very weak excuse…" A sheepish smile creeps up along his face, and he shakes his head slightly before letting his hand fall and eyes drift off towards the frozen garden again.

"From anyone save the Hero of Time, yes, it would be." Those words bring his eyes back to mine, and it's my turn to smile now. The way he's standing with one arm leaning on the rail, I can move myself in towards him so that it's as if he should be holding me from behind. I can feel how he tenses slightly as I brush up against him, but he simply relaxes again, and as I lean against the rail again he moves so that his other arm can circle me gently.

Without him, I think the night would just be too cold.

"What was the other question you had?" I whisper softly, trying not to intrude on the quiet around us. I can feel how he gently nudges against me with the side of his face. Letting out a gentle sigh, his lips hover just over my ear and I smile at the slight shiver it sends running down my back. It's almost a shock for me to feel him slowly dip down and touch his lips to the side of my neck tenderly. But, at the same time, it's something I've been waiting for for a long time now…

"…be mine..?" I don't hear all of the question as he brings himself back up to be level with my ear. His voice is so soft as those are the only two words I can pick out, but they're all I really need.

I don't use words to answer him, turning instead just in towards him, tilting my head up just enough to graze his lips with mine…

"I've been waiting a long time for this…" I whisper, feeling breathless and suddenly wanting to laugh as I turn around in his arms completely, only to be silenced as his arms lock around me and he banishes any of the evening's chill.

"Have you now…?" Taking a moment for air, my arms snake up around his neck as he brings me up close to him. I can hear the smile in his words as he wraps his arms around me soundly, lifting me just off my feet and spinning us both around. I can't keep the laughter in any longer though, and by the time he sets me back down on my feet, I have to cling to him to keep myself upright.

He's laughing too though, so it's alright, his hand coming to rest on my waist again as he takes up my right in his left as we were when dancing in the Hall. He doesn't follow any practiced steps however, simply whirling us both around again before stopping and dipping down to kiss me again.

Nayru- the feel of them is almost addicting!

"Come," I mumble against his lips, the smiles infectious as I can feel him start to laugh even as I pull from him and take up one of his hands in both of mine. Tugging him along towards the doors leading back inside. He almost trips himself as I don't think he was expecting me to actually pull on him, but keeps his balance even with the trampled snow underfoot.

"Where are we going?" He asks breathlessly, and I pause with my hand on the knob, ready to turn it and take us back into the quiet corridors of the palace.

"To tell my father." I announce proudly, turning so that the cold brass is pressed up against the small of my back with my hands behind me, smiling towards him as the moonlight overhead is trying to give him a halo of silver. "To tell the whole court."

"Ah! Tut-tut-tut, Princess!" I take pause at that, but to see him smiling so he can't have anything troubling to tell me. "That will not do tonight."

"Oh really, Lord Faron, and how do you come by that logic?" I question, hearing the humor beneath the formal words and answering in kind as he takes a step or two towards me, simply to close the gap between us, to push away the cold air trying to wedge itself into place.

"I come by it through sheer remembrance," He says coyly, bending knee to me for show as he lifts my hand up gracefully to his lips, "That your noble father did say that tonight; we are to discuss no…" Oh yes, I remember now, the same words he announces before every ball and banquet, a mantra of sorts I have always grown up with. As Link rises again and smiles to me, I just sigh to keep down the warm flutter in my stomach at seeing that tenderness in his gaze, and knowing for sure now what it means…

"Yes, I know, no _Matters of the State_."

**The End **

**-Roll Credits- **

* * *

**Title: Matters of the State**

**Genres: Romance, Drama **

**Main characters: Link, Zelda, Ralph, Nayru. **

**Length: 38 official chapters. Total 216427** **words. 356 Computerized pages, 712 paper-back novel pages. **

**Review Count: 130 **

**Inspirational Artists: Hans Zimmer (King Arthur, Gladiator, Pirates of the Caribbean OSTs), Avril Lavigne (All Albums), Koji Kondo (Legend of Zelda OSTs), Breaking Benjamin (Phobia), Sarah McLachlan (Felicity OST, Afterglow), Loreena Mckennitt (The Ancient Muse, Book of Secrets), Simple Plan (Still Not Gettin' Any), Gensomaden Saiyuki (Saiyuki OST), Z.E.R.O. Team (Various Zelda songs), Tyler Heath (Pirates of Dragon Roost Isle), Jesta Ariadne (Heartache), Shariq Ansari (Ancient Hero), Kumiko Noma (Elfen Lied OST), Motoi Sakuraba (Tales of the Abyss OST), and probably about a hundred more.**

**Published: June 29th, 2006 **

**Completed: July 10th, 2007 **

**Thank you. **


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